The Sweetest Escape
by Wowzer313
Summary: There had always only been one thing to keep him goingto keep him sane. With all of the instability, the drama and the isolation, what else can a shy, sociallystunted, haunted boy plagued with hardship have to keep from losing his mind?1st BestDrama IYFG
1. Pale Like Me

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, Rumiko Takahashi does. I also don't own Sherwin Williams Paint….don't ask, you'll see.

**Chapter 1**: Pale Like Me

"And I swear, if you screw this up, you little shit, I'll hang your hide, you got that?" came the gruff warning from the opposite side of the kitchen. Glasses rattled on the adjacent counter as the refrigerator door slammed shut. Inuyasha tugged absently on a lock of his long white hair as he tuned his father's ranting out. 'More blues,' he pondered. 'Yeah…that'll bring out the contrast. Hm…need to pick up some more cerulean—maybe I should add more texturing to the background?

"Are you _listening_ to me?" the voice snapped the boy out of his thoughts. He quickly straightened his posture and snatched his elbows off the tabletop, releasing the strands he was toying with as a vein-y fist thumped the wood in front of him.

"Yeah. I mean, _yes_. Yes, Sir, I'm listening," he said, quickly amending his mistake. He risked a glance at the man now towering over him to his left. He quickly averted his eyes to stare at the grain of the oak. Surely he didn't need another bruise to the face for his first day of school. The man's eyes narrowed and he scoffed.

"You'd _better_ be listening. I don't have time for your bullshit, you hear me?"

"Yes, Sir, I hear you," the boy replied automatically.

"Good. You'd _better_ be hearing me. Because, dammit, Inuyasha, if I get one call, _one call_, I swear to everything sacred, I'll fucking wring your neck. I don't give a _shit_ what the situation is, I'll strangle you alive, you twat," the man growled. He kicked the boy's chair roughly, and sat down across from him. "What the hell are you staring at? What are you, lost? Nothing's changed—go get me a damn drink!"

Inuyasha wordlessly stood and went to the maple liquor cabinet in the family room, and pulled out the proper flasks to make his father's usual morning concoction. Bringing the alcohol into the kitchen, he proceeded to fill a tumbler three-fourths full of vodka, almost going dizzy from the potent smell on his sensitive nose. He then pulled the half-empty jug of cranberry juice from the fridge and filled the glass the rest of the way, and finished by adding a splash of bourbon. His father was never one to believe in moderation, even at six o'clock in the morning. The man liked to start the day off right—hard liquor and a handful of cheese curls. 'Breakfast of champions,' Inuyasha thought dryly as he watched the man hork the snack food down. It had surprised Inuyasha that his father was somewhat sober at all. He usually chose to remain in a perpetual drunken stupor.

He carefully floated two ice cubes in the tumbler, and set the drink down in front of his father on a cork coaster. He couldn't forget the coaster. The coaster was an absolute must. There were severe consequences to be paid if there was no coaster, he knew from experience.

Inuyasha watched silently from the doorjamb of the kitchen, as was his post, as the man took two large gulps from the tumbler, slamming it back down on the table and wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

"Go on an' get your sorry ass up stairs and get ready for school," the man said flippantly. Inuyasha delayed a full ten seconds. Now was usually when he changed his mind, and ordered something else, proceeding to yell and make a fuss if Inuyasha had already moved towards the stairs. No extra orders were given, and he collected the flasks of liquor and returned them to their original place in the cabinet before padding up the stairs.

Stark white walls greeted him as he pushed open the door to his room. It had always been, and would always be, bare. No posters, no desk, not even a dresser. There were exactly four things in his room: his bed, pillow, blanket, and backpack. His closet contained only the few articles of clothing that he owned. Even if it was permitted, Inuyasha wouldn't keep anything there. Anything he valued, he kept at his own secret getaway.

Opening his closet, he quickly yanked a pair of boxers out of the box in the corner, as well as a pair of jeans, and tugged a t-shirt off one of the few hangers. Clutching his clothes tightly in his arms, Inuyasha poked his head out of his room and glanced up and down the hall. There was no sign of his father, and so, as quickly and as silently as he could, he tiptoed into the bathroom, willing the hinges not to make a sound as he carefully pressed the door shut. Now that his father had begun his drinking for the day, it was in his best interest to avoid the man as much as possible, as the briefest of encounters could leave him…in an unfortunate condition.

Inuyasha slowly turned the knobs on the wall, wincing as the pipes groaned to life. The water pattered gently against the floor of the tub, and he froze, ears pricking to attention. He waited with baited breath for the sudden charge into the tiny bathroom…and let out his relieved sigh after the anxiety-inducing twenty seconds passed without interruption. Testing the temperature of the water, he rid himself of his bedclothes, and prepared to step under the stream. But not before he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

He sighed lightly, his eyes scanning the wraith-like reflection presented to him. He hadn't looked at himself in a while. Not since before he'd had to leave Asahara, his old school. Not that he _wanted_ to look at himself. 'Nothin' to see,' he thought, and smiled a humorless smile. His head cocked at he examined his naked reflection. 'Pale,' he mused. 'Pale like…' He searched his mental catalogue of colors to find the right shade to describe his skin. It was a game he played with himself from time to time, finding the color to adequately describe things. He had to entertain himself somehow, what, with no one to talk to _but_ himself.

'Pale like…Opaline,' he decided finally, pulling from a paint catalogue he'd recently browsed through. 'You, Inuyasha, are opaline-white,' he told himself. His fingers absently grazed a glaring, tender bruise that was easily larger than the span of his spread palm, and marred the sallow expanse of his left shoulder. 'And this…this is a mix…of torchlight-brown, mustard-yellow, danube-blue, and…kismet-purple,' he thought, the mottled skin making his stomach lurch just the tiniest bit.

"Disgusting," he murmured softly, gazing at himself. His eyes flicked over the various lacerations, abrasions, and keloids that dotted his body, the almost serpentine-like scars that snaked down his upper arms. "Mahogany with tanager-red," he whispered to himself as he traced the four crusted-over gouges that had made their place across his abdomen.

Thoroughly sick of eyeing himself, and worried that his father might come barging in at any given moment, Inuyasha tore his gaze away from the accursed mirror, and stepped under the stream of water, welcoming the delicious pain of the heat that eased his sore muscles. He stretched fully, wincing as the scabs on his belly protested. He ran a bar of soap over his body, mindful of the few wounds that still lay open and stung insistently as they were washed.

Fearing that he was running dangerously close to the unspoken time limit his father had set for his showering, Inuyasha shut the water off and gingerly patted his body dry with a worn towel. Slipping into his clothes, he then squeezed the excess water out of his thick mane of hair. He took a thick black elastic band from the shallow drawer underneath the counter and slicked his still-damp hair into a tight pony tail, finishing the process by sliding a strip of cloth over his head, and adjusting it with a secure knot at the back so that not a single strand of white hair was visible, save his pony tail. That would be quickly amended.

His father was close. He could hear the heavy plodding of his footsteps coming up the stairs. Inuyasha quickly scrubbed his teeth with a dot of toothpaste, and hung his towel back on the rack, swiping his bedclothes up into a bundle. He pulled the door open the tiniest bit, and worried his lip between his teeth as he stole out of the bathroom. He tossed his pajamas onto the bed, and grabbed up his backpack and the heaviest sweatshirt he could find. His ears twitched, swiveled and pricked up, listening for the slightest sound. The house was deathly silent. Somehow, that didn't make Inuyasha feel any better. Usually he could hear his father shuffling around downstairs, or hear the sound of glasses clinking, the buzz from the television set. Now, there was nothing. His heart tattooed rapidly in his chest, and Inuyasha willed the muscle to calm itself, almost certain that his father could hear it. He slipped into the thick sweatshirt, zipping it up as far as it could go, jammed his feet into sneakers that had seen better days, and slung his pack onto his shoulders.

Hand gripping the knob to his bedroom door, Inuyasha steeled himself. 'Okay. Just go. On the count of three, just go. You haven't done anything wrong. He's got no reason to do anything, not today. You haven't done _anything_,' he told himself. He ignored the tiny voice of reason in the back of his mind that reminded him that 'not doing anything' hadn't stopped his father before. All he had to do was get out of the house. Then he was free. At least, for seven hours.

Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open and stepped out of his room, closing it behind him. He tried to remain calm, knowing that his father could always smell his fear, and, eventually use it against him, feed off of it. He kept his eyes trained to the floor, ears low, hands held unthreateningly at his sides. He descended the stairs. The door was in sight. He was almost there. Just twelve more feet…ten…eight…

"Inuyasha," his father called. The boy froze, stomach churning. 'Please, just let me get through the door…just through the door…' he thought. He turned, but kept his eyes averted.

"Y-yes, Sir?" The man was in front of him in an instant, his large fists gripping the hood of Inuyasha's sweatshirt. He jerked his fists, giving the boy a little jolt.

"Give me a reason. Give me a reason to skin you alive. Let me get a call. Just one call. That's all it'll take for me to go off on you, Boy," he hissed. Inuyasha nodded his understanding. "Do I make myself clear?" Again, the boy nodded. He released the hood, pushing Inuyasha back roughly, and making him stagger. "I want you here right after school. You come straight back here, you got that?"

"Yes, Sir."

"I mean, it, you little piece of shit. I want your ass _back here_ at four, _sharp_. Don't fuck around and be late," he warned.

"Yes, Sir," Inuyasha repeated. The man looked down at his son and snorted obnoxiously. He waved a hand flippantly.

"Go on and get the hell out of my sight," he said. A dismissal. Inuyasha didn't miss his chance, and hurried out of the house.

He breathed deeply, reveling in the relief that being outside brought him. He watched his breath float away in wisps of fog, and pulled his hood up over his damp hair, shivering with the cold.

He began to trudge on, passing the small pavilion of the bus stop, knowing that he'd missed the one that would make him on time for class. He sniffled and hunched his shoulders, trying to burrow deeper into the inadequate warmth that his sweatshirt offered. It was bitterly cold, and he was definitely feeling it, with his hair still slightly damp, and his shoddy footwear. He shoved his hands into his pockets, balling them into fists. For the umpteenth time, he wished he had a car. It didn't have to be anything special, just a little putt-putt to get him from point A to point B. And keep him warm. Especially since his new school was so far away from his house.

After what seemed like forever, Inuyasha was finally staring at the doors of Daisuke High School, Home of the Lions, as the emerald green and white banner so proudly proclaimed. He'd never actually _been_ to the place. He was flying blind. He'd seen the brochure, limited as it had been. But he'd poured over several brochures for schools in his search for a new one after his incident at Asahara. So, Daisuke High didn't exactly stand out in his mind. It hadn't mattered what school he chose anyway. The result would undoubtedly be the same, he knew.

Taking the steps two at a time, Inuyasha glanced around at the empty courtyard and sighed. It was going to absolutely suck. Just like every other school.

He wholeheartedly welcomed the rush of heat that flowed over him as he opened the door, and for a moment, he simply stood there, rubbing his frozen palms together. He wanted desperately to rub his ears to warm them as well, but the few straggling students in the hall made him refrain. Instead, he pressed them flat against his skull, hoping that they hadn't seen the triangular lumps the appendages formed under the fabric of his hood.

Finally deciding he was warm enough to move once more, he shuffled down the long, ominous looking hallway, which, in turn, branched off into more hallways. Bewildered, and slightly nauseated, Inuyasha picked a random hallway and searched for the office. 'Didn't it occur to anyone to put some fucking _signs_ in this damn place?' he thought peevishly. The secretary on the phone had told him to report directly to the front office on his first day to pick up his bell schedule. 'You'd think the 'front office' would be in the fucking _front_,' he thought. He was fast becoming lost in the maze of hallways, the pale, ivory tile and too-white walls all meshing into one big blur.

"Shouldn't you be in a _class_ right now, young man?" an annoyed, authoritative voice questioned. Inuyasha was so intent in his search that he whirled around surprised. Normally he would have heard the man coming, or smelled his approach. The tall man glared at Inuyasha angrily through circular wire frames balanced on the bridge of his hawkish nose.

"Oh…see, I'm looking for the front office, and—"

"I don't recall asking you what you were looking for, or whether you were looking for something at all. I asked you about class. As in, shouldn't you be _in_ one?" the man reiterated.

"Well, yes, but—"

"Then why _aren't_ you?"

"I needed to get to the front of—"

"What's your name, Boy?" the man asked disdainfully, pulling a small pad of paper and a pen out of the pocket of his button up shirt.

"I-Inuyasha, but—"

"Last name?"

"Chikamatsu, but, Sir, I—"

"Detention," the man snapped, ripping the small slip from the rest of the pad and holding it out to the boy like a used tissue. Inuyasha's jaw dropped.

"But _why_?"

"Have you been listening? Or are you simply too slow to follow? You aren't in class. This is a designated class time period. That is grounds for detention," the man explained snippily.

"B-but…but it's my first day!" Inuyasha exclaimed. "I don't even know what my first class _is_! I was looking for the front offi—"

"Take this," the man ordered, jerking the yellow slip. Inuyasha snatched the slip, silently fuming. The man wasn't even _listening_ to him. "To get to the front office you need to go back out of the doors you came into, and turn right. They're on the side of the main building, and to the left of the outdoor courts. And I suggest you hurry. You wouldn't want to add another detention to the one you already have." The man cocked an eyebrow and began to walk past the flustered boy. "Welcome to Daisuke High," he said smoothly.

Inuyasha clenched his teeth together, fisting the slip of paper in his palm. 'Dad is gonna _kill_ me,' he thought miserably. 'Fucking _asshole_,' Why had that man been so completely horrible? Right from the start? 'Did he some how _know _I'm only half human?' Inuyasha thought. He was pretty sure he'd covered all of his hair with the band.

He moved forward, following his own old scent to find his way through the labyrinth-like halls to the front door.

The front office was just where the man had said. It was connected to a strip of other offices, the guidance counselor's offices, sports offices, as well as the infirmary. He stepped into the room, immediately going to the first desk with a person behind it. The tiny, shrewish woman looked up at him.

"Can I help you?"

"I need to pick up my schedule."

"You're a transfer?" she asked, flicking through a file drawer by her feet.

"Um…you could say that…" She gave him a strange, wary look.

"Name, please?"

"Inuyasha Chikamatsu." Her face paled. Her hands began to shake.

"Oh…oh, my, _you're_ the…um…" she said in a high, breathy voice. She cleared her throat uncomfortably. Inuyasha rolled his eyes and sighed exasperatedly as she quickly moved to another drawer in her desk and pulled out an ominously bright red folder. A light blue piece of paper was slid to him. "There. Schedule, locker number and combination are all there," she said briefly, and pulled her hands back from the desk, opting to fold them primly in her lap as he picked up the paper. Suddenly, he could feel five other pairs of eyes boring into him. He looked up to find the other four secretaries and the man delivering bottled water all staring at him with cold, judgmental expressions, their jaws set. He'd seen that look. He _knew _that look. It was the kind of look he'd gotten all his life.

He left, not bothering to say thank you.

Inuyasha wandered back into the main building, meandering along, until he found a bathroom. Ducking into it, he studied his reflection critically, making absolutely certain that no wisps of white hair were making themselves visible. He was fairly certain the man hadn't seen his claws, and he hadn't flashed his fangs either. Inuyasha shrugged and exited the bathroom, and finally, after all of his stalling, faced his first class of the day.

It was almost over. There were only twelve minutes left in the period. He seriously considered ditching, but knew that since he'd made his presence known, there was no way he could not show up. 'Just walk in, show the schedule, and sit down. Don't look at anyone, don't touch anything except your own desk,' he schooled himself. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open, and cursed the big wooden monstrosity when it creaked and groaned loudly on its hinges.

The teacher fell silent, chalk in mid-stroke on the board. The dull roar of idle chatter, tapping pencils, and scraping desk legs fell to silence as well as he crossed the front of the room to give the woman his schedule. He waited awkwardly as she scanned it, eyes flicking from the paper to his face, squinting with one eye as if she didn't quite believe that he belonged in her class.

"Infamous," she said, more to herself than the boy in front of her. "There's a…_memorandum_…going around about you," she said quietly, eyeing him steadily. Inuyasha fought the urge to laugh at the way she said 'memorandum'. As if the note was the black plague or something. She lifted her chin and handed his schedule back. "I see you have no books, so you'll have to look on with someone else. Take a seat," she instructed, waving him away.

Inuyasha's eyes instantly locked on the desk that had been placed seemingly just for him. In the furthest column, seat closest to the door. Sure, everyone could stare at him all period long, but when the bell rang, he could be the first one of class, an advantage he'd learned was necessary when every student between the back row and the door wanted to trip you. He underwent the almost ceremonial 'ten-seconds-of-silence-while-the-late-kid-gets-settled', and took out a clean notebook and a pencil. He wasn't stupid enough to think that the girl next to him would share her textbook, and she'd made it quite obvious in the way she hunched over the thing, as though she were protecting some precious treasure, so he simply copied what the teacher wrote on the board, quickly getting lost in the woman's strangely vague descriptions of the intricate workings of the Japanese economy.

'This actually isn't as big of a train-wreck as I thought it was gonna be,' Inuyasha thought as he exited his third period class. No, he wasn't making friends left and right, or any way at all for that matter, joining clubs, nor was he signing up for the school play. But he had known beforehand that those things weren't going to happen. Inuyasha's idea of a good day was one where he wasn't constantly reminded of his mixed heritage, pushed down the stairs, shoved into a wall, or intimately acquainted with anyone's knuckles. And so far, it had been a surprisingly good day.

So far, it didn't seem that anyone realized that he was half-demon, save the detention guy from earlier that morning, and he was eternally grateful. As long as he kept a low profile, his specialty, kept his hood low, and his claws hidden, he felt fairly certain he could keep up the façade that he was simply another ordinary Daisuke High student. This thought alone lifted his spirits a bit.

That was, until he found his way to his fourth period class.

Firstly, it was Literature & Composition. Inuyasha hated Lit & Comp class. He wasn't very good with words, much less breaking taking them in context and analyzing them for what he felt were insignificant nuances of meaning. If that weren't bad enough, once he glanced through the narrow pane in the door, all semblance of hope he may have had for the halfway-okay day flew out of the proverbial window.

"You've gotta be fucking _kidding _me," he said under his breath, his eyes going wide. "Kami….you truly hate me, don't you?"

* * *

Author's Notes: 

Okay! First chapter fic. Everybody review so I can know if I should continue or not—I don't wanna waste my time on a fic no body likes, or anything.

I know Inuyasha is kind of out of character, but I kind of meant it that way—it's alternate universe, so, that can mean alternate personalities, can't it? Kind of-sort of?

Anyway, I don't wanna take him _completely_ out of character, but he's not gonna be nearly as loud or caustic or abrasive as he is in the anime. When other characters appear, they'll probably end up being out of character, too—so no flames for that! I know they're out of character! It's on purpose!

Oh, and all those colors are real, too—I checked!

Just a little side note—I was reading through the rules about posting stuff, and I saw the rule that said 'No Review Whoring'. I'd just like to say, that that is one of the funniest things I have ever heard. Honestly, _Review Whoring_? Tell me I'm not the only one who got a stomach cramp from laughing after reading that!

Anyway, I won't 'Review Whore' my story (laughing so hard right now)

But your reviews _are_ appreciated! Very much so!

Wowzer313


	2. Toxic

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, Rumiko Takahashi does.

Author's Notes: Okay, so it was brought to my attention that Inuyasha doesn't scar. And the last chapter very clearly states that there were scars on him. Oops.

To amend my mistake, I'll just make it so that he heals faster than a human, but slower than a demon, so just play along like it would take a couple of days or so for his injuries to go away, instead of a couple of hours, okay? Thank you!

Read on! Review, too!

**Chapter 2**: Toxic

The man waited for all of the students filed into the classroom. He leaned against his desk, the tips of his fingers pressed together and tapping against his thin lips.

Inuyasha picked at the spiral binding of his notebook agitatedly. This was not a situation he was comfortable with. First, the desks were not in the customary rows that he'd come to rely on so much. Instead, they were set in a large circle, no doubt for the purpose of Socratic-like discussions, and enabling the teacher a generous amount of space to walk as he lectured. Either way, every person could see every other person's face, and that alone was the source of Inuyasha's discomfiture. Seating strategy here wouldn't help him.

The man hadn't bothered to check Inuyasha's schedule, instead shooing him away with a light flick of his wrist. As Inuyasha slid into a seat, he could heard the man chuckle softly as he flipped through a stack of papers, and the feeling of dread he'd gotten upon entering the classroom increased ten-fold.

Students settled themselves, surprisingly lacking the idle chatter than seems to accompany high school students wherever they go. No one spoke. No one laughed. No one rustled the papers of their binders excessively. No more than forty seconds after the bell had rung was every student in their seat, with books out, notebooks open to fresh pages, and holding pens or pencils poised for note-taking. They were all staring at the man, waiting for him to speak.

He entered the circle, taking slow, deliberate steps until he reached the center. His gaze floated over each student, eyes showing a sort of vague approval at each pupil's rapt attention on his actions. The man had a presence. A frightening, unnervingly compelling, and strangely commanding presence, but a presence all the same.

"Chikamatsu," he said, suddenly turning to face Inuyasha. Inuyasha's head jerked. The other students eyed each other warily, apparently having not noticed him yet.

"…yes, Si—"

"Ah, ah, ah," he tutted, wagging a single finger. "You will stand when you are spoken to in this class," he instructed, jerking his four fingers up in a beckoning motion. Inuyasha slowly stood. He was exactly in the type of situation that made him want to vomit. Everyone was watching him, he was the center of attention, and from the looks of the teacher's face, he was about to be grilled. "There's a good boy," the man said smoothly. He strolled leisurely to the opposite side of the circle to the one desk that was left empty. He picked up a red pen, and rubbed his thumb over it absently, his back still facing Inuyasha.

"I'm going to let you in on a little secret, Chikamatsu. I don't care what the dress code is in your other classes. I don't care what the handbook does or does not say. I don't allow hoods in my classroom." He looked at the boy over his shoulder, a small smirk adorning his lips. "Take it off," he commanded, voice low. Inuyasha floundered.

"But…but, Sir, I—"

"We wouldn't want to add another detention for insubordination, now would we?" the man asked, feigning innocence. "So take it off. _Now_."

Inuyasha stalled for as long as he could. The other students were giving him incredulous looks, as if they couldn't fathom why any hood would be worth speaking against _this_ teacher. He could see what they were thinking in their eyes. 'Just take the hood off, New Kid! Please, just take it off! It's better than going against this guy, believe me!' they seemed to say. His stomach lurched. They wouldn't be offering that type of silent camaraderie in a moment.

He lifted a shaking hand, covered by the copious sleeves of his sweatshirt, and slowly slid the hood from his head. He could almost _feel_ the shock of the class at the sight of the white ponytail whose length disappeared into his sweatshirt, and ears that poked up from behind the strip of cloth he'd used to tie his hair back, despite his every effort to flatten them into obscurity. They made no sound. There were no gasps, no murmurs of 'Oh, Kami!' or anything of the like. There was only that tangible shift in the atmosphere, that palpable stigma that had suddenly dropped over all of them like an iron curtain.

The man looked him straight in the eye and smirked, a small chuckle escaping his lips. Inuyasha tried to convey all of the indescribably immense hatred he felt for the man in one look, tried to make him freeze from the absolute frigidness in his glare, but to no avail. His face turned unbearably hot, and he didn't need a mirror to know that his cheeks were almost fluorescent in their blush.

"Hm. How interesting," the man said lightly, enunciating every syllable. He smiled. "Well. Since you're already up, why don't you answer a few questions for me, hm?"

"But I don't—"

"Humor me." The man took a novel from a student's desk and flipped it open. He leaned his right hip against his desk. "The assignment was to read chapter 8, was it not?" he asked rhetorically. "Chikamatsu, why don't you give the class your thoughts on the tragic hero's descent into treachery?"

Inuyasha's eyes fell to the man's nametag, clipped from the pocket on his shirt, one he knew held the abhorred yellow slips. 'Mr. Akuran,' he thought. 'You fucking _ass_hole.'

"Sir, I don't have—"

"No? Well, how about expounding on the theme of fate vs. free will throughout the first half of the book?"

"I haven't had a chance to pick up my—"

"Can you at least give us a motif? Perhaps a tiny bit of symbolism?" he pushed. It was obvious that the man was enjoying Inuyasha's complete mortification. The boy fell silent, unwilling to try and explain the situation anymore to only be cut off. His eyes fell to the floor, and his hands fisted the material of his jacket tightly. "Tsk, tsk, tsk. Well, Chikamatsu, I must say, I'm at a loss for words. Let's see, you've gotten a detention within, what, your first ten minutes of stepping into the building, you've shown complete disregard for the rules of my classroom as well as blatant disrespect for my authority, and now, you aren't even prepared for today's discussion….I don't know what to say to you. You're off to a very bad start here at Daisuke," the man admonished gently. He stood and made a mark on a small steno pad flipped to a clean page.

"Then again, I wouldn't expect a half breed to be competent enough to follow our conversation anyway," he said breezily. "Sit," he commanded icily, and Inuyasha promptly slid back into his chair, keeping his vision trained at the notebook in front of him. He had no doubt in his mind that by the end of the day, at least half the school would know what he was.

* * *

Inuyasha carried the cumbersome stack of thick textbooks in front of him, the bindings of the books pressed against his chest and stomach, aggravating the scars there. 'Damn things aren't healing as quick as they normally do,' he thought, peeved as the corner of his pre-calculus book jabbed into a gouge. 'Damn staff,' he thought darkly. 'Damn school. Damn the whole thing to hell.'

He had planned to pick up the books at his lunch period, and then drop them off at the locker he'd been unable to visit as of yet. However, the wrench was thrown in that plan when he encountered ornery, plump woman in charge.

"Is it okay if I pick up my books?" he asked. She didn't look up. "Ma'am?" Again, there was no response. She simply continued to read her magazine article on 'How to Bring out your inner Sex-Kitten', head propped up in her hands.

"Um…excuse me? Can I pick up—" The woman reached with one hand under the desk and pulled out a folded index card, and set it in front of her magazine. Inuyasha bent to read the tiny message scrawled there. 'Lunch Break. Back in fifty.' He sighed.

"You're kidding, right?" he said flatly. She didn't respond. "You're sitting right here! You're not even eating anythi—" She reached back under the desk and pulled out a ridiculously jam-packed sub sandwich, and promptly peeled back the cellophane. Inuyasha could only stare as the woman took unbelievably large bites of her foul-smelling sub, and methodically chewed, as she continued to read.

"Okay…" he said slowly, pinching the top of the bridge of his nose exasperatedly. "Are you going to be open right after seventh period?" he asked. 'Or do you have another sex article to tend to?' he thought. He was ignored. So that plan had been shot to hell.

He returned to the bookstore immediately after seventh period. The woman sent him an annoyed glare over the shoulder of the student she had been helping, and sighed briefly.

"Can I help you?" she drawled, tapping her pen impatiently after the other student had left.

"Books. For these classes," Inuyasha said snippily. He'd run out of patience for this woman. He slid his schedule across to her.

"ID number?" she droned, clacking the keys of the computer. He stared at her.

"It's right there!" he exclaimed, pointing to the top of the schedule that held all of his information. She glanced down at the paper, and back up to him, shrugging. She input the information, and waddled up and down the various aisles of the vast room, taking her dear sweet time, and dropping the books down one by one on the counter in front of Inuyasha with a loud '_WHACK!_' Inuyasha anxiously watched the clock. He was going to be late to detention, and he was almost positive that being late to detention would end in yet _another_ detention.

"There. You rip, damage, or lose them, you buy them," she said in a deadpan voice.

"Fine," he ground out, and struggled to get a good grip on the load as he exited the doors. He was already seven minutes late to the detention room, which turned out to be clear across campus. So, he decided to forgo dumping the books into his locker until after he'd served his sentence.

He'd been exactly right. He received another yellow slip for the following day after being in the room for only five minutes.

He'd also been right in his hunch. He was now infamous, as demonstrated by the boy who, in a ridiculously overly dramatic and loud stage whisper said to his neighbor, "That's him!" as soon as he got through the door. Chatter soon ensued as those who didn't know were filled in on Inuyasha's 'stripping' in Lit & Comp class. Inuyasha sunk as low in his seat as he could, and concentrated for the remainder of the hour on getting caught up in his reading assignment.

As soon as he and the other ten detainees were released, Inuyasha rushed back to the main building, trying the doors. Locked. He let out a whispered curse. He could see a janitor waxing the tile floors.

He rapped insistently on the door with frozen knuckles, finally getting the man's attention. He pointed down at the stack of books he was struggling with, silently asking for entry. The man shook his head vehemently, pointing up at the clock that Inuyasha couldn't quite see.

"Please!" he shouted, positive that the man could hear him. Still, the man adamantly refused, and after a few minutes of Inuyasha gesturing at his stack of books, the man scoffed and pointedly turned his back, returning to his task. "Yeah, well, fuck you, too," Inuyasha growled darkly.

His dad was going to kill him. It was already somewhere around three fifty. He had roughly ten minutes to get home on time, give or take a few minutes, and it took him at least thirty to walk. Of course, he'd missed the cross-town bus that had left shortly after school let out at two-forty, detention having skewed his entire plan. He set his jaw, and began to trudge angrily through the snow, his toes quickly going numb.

As he began the trek, he tried to think of a way he could explain the situation to his father in an unassuming way, so that the man would maybe, possible, hopefully see how much circumstances were working against him.

'Okay, Inuyasha, just, as soon as you get through the door, explain yourself. Just start talking, and…' He sighed, fighting the urge to scream his frustration to the heavens. 'It's hopeless. Fucking _hopeless_. He's gonna fucking _kill_ me…' His brows lowered dangerously and he adjusted his arms in their uncomfortable position. The awkward hold he had on the books coupled with the bitter cold had him quickly losing the circulation in his fingers.

And so he stewed, cursing the entire day and everyone involved. He cursed the bookstore woman, who took so long, and therefore caused the detention for the next day; he cursed the man watching them in detention who had _given_ him the second detention; he cursed the janitor, who wouldn't allow him entry into the building to put his books away so that his arms wouldn't be going numb, and therefore, forcing him to carry the bulky monstrosities all the way home, only to have to bring them back the next day to stow in his locker. And finally, he cursed Mr. Akuran, who was the reason the entire day had went to shit in the first place.

He cursed Daisuke High School, as it was the place that was going to get the crap kicked out of him when he got home; he cursed Asahara High School for kicking him out, and therefore, forcing him to attend Daisuke, leading him to the current predicament. He thrice-cursed Kouga Nishi, as that nuisance and his cronies had been the reason for all his troubles at Asahara that _led_ to his getting kicked out, and the inevitable transfer to Daisuke.

So busy was he cursing every nameable entity he could think of, that he didn't notice the insistent rev of the engine of the car he was passing behind. And because he didn't notice the engine revving, he didn't notice the tsunami of gray slush that was suddenly launched in his direction from the energetic spin of the rear tires. Not until he and his stack of precious books were completely drenched in the toxic mix of old snow and miscellaneous pollution from the gutters of Tokyo did he become aware of anything outside of his own festering thoughts.

He came to an abrupt halt as the slush hit him full force, almost knocking him sideways as large chunks of the stuff sliding down his shirts, and soaking him to the bone. The toxic cocktail was dripping from the edge of his hood, his face, and his eyelashes, as his entire left side had been exposed. So surprised was he by the mind-numbing force of the cold slush that he had dropped the stack of books that he'd grappled for. Right into the gutter, and therefore, into more slush.

He blew a puff of air through tightened lips, spraying a mist of slush away from his mouth. He didn't move. He could only stare at the stack off books that was slowly soaking up moisture from the pool they were lying in. His jaw clenched so tightly, he could almost feel his teeth crack from the pressure.

"Uh-oh…Yuki, I think I'm going to have to call you back…"

* * *

Author's notes:

You know what to do! Review!

Oh, and has anyone ever noticed how everyone's name in this series ends with a vowel? Inuyash_a_, Mirok_u_, Sang_o_, Kagur_a…_and the list goes on….I just noticed that….

Anyway, digital points to anyone who can figure out who the teacher is!


	3. Nasal Impact

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, Rumiko Takahashi does.

Author's Notes:

Bear with me. This is an extra long chapter. So, faithful readers, don't get bored and leave, okay? Please!

Okay, that's it.

**Chapter 3**: Nasal Impact

"So, the meeting went well…I mean, it didn't end in complete and total _anarchy_, and that's pretty much as good as it's gonna get with that bunch…._no_, I was _not_ a controlling dictator—and hey! Even if I was, the project was _my_ idea; I have a _right_ to be in control!" Kagome emphasized into her cell phone as she wrestled with the zipper on her purse. "Yuki, contrary to what you like to believe, I _am_ a competent individual. And I don't appreciate you insinuating that—stupid _zipper_!" she growled, frustrated, giving the stubborn fastener a sharp tug. That finally dislodged it from whatever it was stuck on, but unfortunately sent all of her personal belongings flying down the sidewalk. She continued to prattle on as she chased down her rolling tubes of lip gloss, hairbrush and comb.

"I am _not_ a spazz!" she exclaimed. "My zipper was stuck! The zipper on my _purse_, Yuki, not my _pants_…" she said dryly, inserting her sought-for keys into the door of her car. "I mean, honestly do you think I'd be talking to you in the _bathroom stall_? That's really gross, Yuki…" Kagome tossed her school bag and camera bag into the passenger seat along with her purse and slid into the car herself. "And you say _I'm_ the ditz? Yeah, right…"

Kagome held her phone wedged between her shoulder and her ear as she started the car, thankful for the whoosh of heat that immediately blasted through the vents. "Yuki! That's _disgusting_! Why are you telling me that?" she squealed with a giggle. Putting the vehicle into 'drive', she pressed accelerator, clicking her tongue in dismay when the car didn't budge. She tried again. Again, the car wouldn't move. "Try to have a little _discretion_—just because I've known you since you were two does _not_ mean I need the intimate little details of your life— _Crap!_" she exclaimed. "My car's stuck, that's what's wrong! Stupid snow drift…" she muttered. Glancing briefly out of the windshield and happy with the fact that there were no cars, or cops for that matter, in the vicinity, Kagome near-floored the accelerator pedal in a last-ditch effort to get the car to move.

A sudden movement in her rearview mirror made her jump and immediately let off of the gas. She squinted into the mirror, trying to make out what it was. She cut the engine, and hopped out of the car. "I don't know, I just saw something in my rearvie—" Kagome froze.

Right behind her car stood a boy. Drenched from head to toe in slush, apparently from her vehicle. He spit a spray of mist out in from of him, and Kagome grimaced.

"Uh-oh…Yuki, I think I'm going to have to call you back…" she murmured. She snapped the phone closed and stuffed it in the pocket of her coat before the girl could say anything else. "H-hey…oh, _wow_…I'm, um, I didn't even _see_ you there! _Kami_, I'm _so_ sorry!" She edged closer to the boy, who still hadn't moved. Glancing down, she saw the splayed stack of books lying haphazardly in the slush occupying the dip by the curb.

She stepped around his immobile form and gingerly picked up the top book by the corner of the back cover between her thumb and pointer finger, and then held it out to him as if she were holding a dirty diaper.

"Here," she said softly. The boy finally tore his gaze from its place on the concrete to look at her as if she were the antichrist. She flinched under that leer. He slowly, deliberately took the book from her fingers and proceeded to kneel and begin picking up the rest of the absolutely sopping stack, making himself even wetter in the process.

"Hey, let me help you," she offered. She crouched on the curb, attempted to pick up another book with extended arms and flighty hands… and ended up dropping it back into the slop, and inadvertently splashing the boy in the face again in her desire to touch as little of the filthy book as possible. He recoiled and spluttered, spitting to the side. Kagome clapped her hands over her mouth.

"I'm sorry! Kami, I'm sorry!" she exclaimed in a rush. He merely glared at her, his jaw set. "Oh, man, that was a total accident! Let me get that—"

"Leave it," he bit out through clenched teeth, pushing her hands away. Kagome pushed back.

"No, I've got to help you, since I got you all wet—"

"I said _leave it_," he ground out, by now thoroughly irritated. Kagome held up both her hands and backed away, standing.

"Okay, okay, sorry," she repeated her apology for the umpteenth time. He scooped up the remaining books and began to walk away at a brisk pace before she could even react. "Hey, wait!" she called. She jogged the few steps he'd already crossed and cut him off, grabbing a fistful of his sweatshirt. He stumbled to a stop, staring at her incredulously.

"Um…look, I…I feel really bad about what just happened, and…well…my house is only a little ways from here. I mean, I could get you a clean t-shirt and I could toss your jacket in the wash—"

"No," he said flatly. He stepped around her, but she refused to relinquish her hold on his jacket.

"But you're absolutely _soaked_. You're gonna get sick out here in those wet clothes. At least let me take you home," she implored. He sighed heavily as he thought about it.

"Fine," he relented. She smiled. He gave her a weird look and looked pointedly at her hand, still quite securely fisted in the material of his jacket. With a little self-conscious chuckle, she quickly loosed him.

"Oops. Sorry." She walked back to her car and popped the trunk. "I think I've got some towels in here somewhere…My mom is always stocking the car with all kinds of stuff…first-aid kits, flashlights, stuff like that. She's always saying 'You never know when you'll have an emergency on your hands,' or 'Nobody means to get into an accident—that's why they call it an accident! So you need to be prepared'," Kagome babbled as she shuffled through the contents of the small space. A quick glance at the boy told her that he probably didn't care too much about her mother's little axioms of wisdom. "You can put your bag and books in the back…um…on the floor, 'cause they're kind of dirty…" she instructed from around the back.

"Here we go!" she exclaimed, pulling out two pink, rumpled towels. She spread these over the expanse of the passenger seat, and swept her arm out graciously towards the car. "Your chariot awaits," she said dramatically. The boy gave her another weird look as he clambered into the vehicle, and she quickly straightened her posture. 'Okay, Yuki was right. Kagome, now is _not_ the time to act like a spazz!' she admonished herself.

She hadn't been expecting him to be absolutely comfortable sitting in her car, as he was quite tall, and, well…her baby was only a VW Bug. But she hadn't expected him to be squashed in like a _sardine_. He grunted uncomfortably at the small space. Kagome had to bite her lip to stifle the giggle that threatened to rise. His shins were getting quite intimately acquainted with her glovebox, and his knees were only a hand's length away from his nose.

She rushed around the front of the car to slide back into the driver's seat and start the car. This time, the car moved easily forward with no problems.

"Guess all that slush was all that was in the way," she said lightly.

"No shit," he said dryly. Kagome frowned at him.

"You don't have to be so grumpy," she pouted.

"Well, seeing as how you just sprayed me with toxic snow, and it's about thirty degrees outside, and I'm freezing my _ass_ off, I'd say I have a right to be fucking _grumpy_," he spat venomously.

"Okay, okay…sorry," she apologized meekly. She could feel his eyes on the side of her face. Finally he sighed and swiped the sleeve of his jacket over his face tiredly.

"Sorry… 's just been a shitty day," he grumbled. He leaned his forearms against his knees and held his hands, still cocooned in his sleeves, in front of the vents from which warm air blew forcefully.

"Um…you might wanna put your seatbelt on—"

"I'm wedged in here, practically sniffing my knees. I'm not _going_ anywhere," he snapped.

"Alright, suit yourself…Hey, how stupid of me! I didn't even introduce myself!" she exclaimed suddenly, brightening. "I'm Kagome. Higurashi." She peeked at him out of the corner of her eye. "You look kind of familiar…what's your name?"

"Inuyasha," he said briefly. She snapped her fingers and pointed at him enthusiastically.

"That's it! Inuyasha! You…you're in my class, aren't you? My seventh hour—Biology, with Ms. Sakagami, right?"

"Yeah."

"I _knew_ I recognized you!" she smiled. "So? You transferred?"

"Something like that."

"Okay…So how do you like Daisuke High so far?"

He shrugged one shoulder noncommittally.

"Wow, you love it that much, huh?" she said sarcastically with a smile, in an attempt to get him to at least crack a tiny smile. Or at least respond. "Hm…man of few words, eh?" Once again, he was silent as the tomb, with only a small lifting of his left shoulder to indicate that he'd even heard her.

"You know, you're gonna have to speak to me eventually, if I'm gonna give you a ride home. I don't read minds, and you can't exactly grunt directions," she pointed out as she inched the tiny car onto the main road.

"Expressway going to exit 174," he mumbled.

"All the way down _there_? Jeez, how far do you live?" she exclaimed. She got no response. She sighed. "Well…anyway… Daisuke isn't that bad. It's actually a pretty cool place once you get to know some people…" He snorted derisively, in what Kagome could only deduce was disbelief or skepticism. "Hey! Maybe I could introduce you to some people! Tomorrow? Yeah, you could meet my friend Eri—she's in our Biology class too—anyway, she's nice, and I'm sure I could introduce you to some guys at lunch—what hour do you have lunch anyway? I've got fifth—But I know a couple of guys you might get along with, so you're not just hanging around with a bunch of girls. I bet you'd hate that! What do you say?"

Inuyasha stared at Kagome as if she were absolutely deranged and in dire need of medication. He shook his head and turned away from her, opting to stare out of the window instead. Kagome stared right back, absolutely flummoxed.

"Well, the whole 'conversation' thing is _supposed_ to go both ways, but, hey, whatever…" she mumbled. Kagome knew she was a talker, and while she could probably carry a conversation by herself, she hated the thought of the strange, silent boy next to her thinking her an absolute imbecile. So, she shut her trap and turned the radio on, settling on a popular station playing a catchy little song. She hummed softly. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Inuyasha staring at the radio as if he'd never seen one before.

"What, you don't like this song? You can change it if you want," she told him. He shook his head slightly and turned back to the window.

"Is that time right?" he asked out of the blue. Kagome was so surprised he'd spoken of his own accord that she stared at him.

"Um, yeah, it's right…well, it's actually about three minutes slow, but—"

"Do you think you could step on it?" he pressed.

"What, you mean go faster?"

"Yes, that's what 'step on it' means," he said impatiently. Kagome hesitated.

"But I'm already going the speed limit, and I don't want to get a tic—_WHOA! Idiot!_" she screeched as a large white pickup suddenly darted in front of her, it's bed only a breath away from the front of her own car. She instinctively slammed on the brakes. And in that same instant, Inuyasha's upper body jerked forward, bringing his nose to collide quite soundly with his knees.

"Holy _FUCK_!" he roared, recoiling, his hands immediately flying up to clap over the offended body part. Kagome stared in faint horror as blood started to run from between his fingers.

"Oh, Kami, you're bleeding," she murmured, glancing back and forth between the macabre sight next to her and the road.

"Ya think?" he snapped.

"Just—um….there's tissues in the glove box right there…" she said softly, wincing as he contorted his body to get at the glove box, and his hand smeared blood on the handle of the compartment. 'Note to Self: get Lysol in here, stat,' she thought with a grimace, and turned the radio down to almost silent. He held a wad of her favorite scented blue tissues up to his nose to stem the flow of blood. His head fell back weakly against the head rest with a groan. "I _told_ you to put your seatbelt on…" she said meekly. With another defeated groan, he slowly pulled the belt across his chest and clicked it soundly at his side.

"Um…do you think you might pass out or something? Is your vision spotted? Do you want me to take you to a hospital or anything?" she asked gently after a few long moments of silence.

"No," he said weakly. He pulled the tissues back, as the bleeding had apparently stopped. He sniffled a few times and rubbed the area just under his nose, a bit harder than necessary, Kagome thought.

"I'm really sorry about all this…some help I am, huh?" she said, joking lamely.

"It's fine."

"Are you gonna be late somewhere if I don't speed up? I mean, we're going seventy-five right now…but I could go a bit fas—"

"No…it's really fine. Don't worry about it. It's not your fault, really," he insisted. He suddenly sounded exhausted, and, if Kagome wasn't mistaken, a bit sad. He rubbed the heel of his hand, covered by his sweatshirt, across his forehead, eyes clenched tightly shut as if he had a headache. 'Well, with that bonk in the face, he probably _does_ have a headache,' Kagome thought.

After a few minutes of complete and utter silence, Kagome pulled off the expressway at exit 174 as Inuyasha had instructed.

"Okay, where do I go now?" she prompted the boy, who still had his eyes shut and his hand pressed against his forehead. He opened his eyes and glanced out of the window.

"This is fine," he said.

"Huh? But…we're still on the service drive…I can't just leave you here—"

"This is _fine_," he repeated. He unclipped his seat belt. "Just pull over."

"You don't want me to take you to your house?"

"_No_, just pull _over_," he emphasized, his hand poised on the door handle. Kagome shrugged and pulled over to the curb, putting the car in park. He practically launched himself out of the car, and flung the seat forward to get at his things. He shoved his arms through the straps of his bag and cradled the soggy books one arm while he pushed the seat back into its place.

"Um…alright, well…I'll see you tomorrow in Bio," Kagome said, nonplussed at his sudden rush. He grunted a response she couldn't hear, and closed the door firmly. She blinked after his retreating form in her rearview mirror before shaking her head and pulling away from the curb to head home.

Inuyasha shuddered violently at the sudden blast of cold air that hit him once he left the warm little cocoon of the girl's car. 'If you can call that sardine can a car,' he thought dryly. He was nowhere near dry, his nose stung, and on top of that, he had a pounding headache. Whether it had come from his face crashing into his knees or from the anxiety that was quickly building, he didn't know.

He clutched his pile of books close to his chest and trudged home, not wanting to go, but knowing he must. His mind idly wandered back to the girl whose car he'd just vacated.

'Introduce me to people…yeah right,' he thought derisively. She was a blabbermouth, he thought. She talked constantly and animatedly, the hand that wasn't steering the car waving and flapping about, causing the platinum-colored charm bracelet she wore to clink softly as she prattled on. She didn't even seem to realize just how excessively she was speaking, and Inuyasha had watched her in a vague kind of awe as the pom on top of her woolen Derbyshire-green hat bobbed with her movements. Only when he failed to give her a vocal response did she finally shut up. But not for long. 'Some people just have to have noise,' he mused. 'Weird girl…'

She hadn't seemed to care—or notice—that there was something not quite right about him. She had to be apart of the minority at Daisuke High that hadn't heard about him. 'Well, that little group will be gone by tomorrow morning, first period,' he thought with certainty. 'Too bad, I don't get to meet Eri," he thought sarcastically.

Inuyasha regarded his house from the icy sidewalk with reluctance. He felt as though he were being sent to walk the plank as he shuffled stiffly up the walk, his damp, heavy jeans just starting to have tiny crystals form over them. Pulling his key out of his bag, he inserted it into the keyhole and slowly turned it. There was no point in trying to sneak up to his room—his father would no be right on the other side of the door, no doubt, just waiting to throttle him. He pushed the door open, and entered the lion's den, pressing it softly shut behind him.

"Inuyasha, come here," the deep voice seemed to resonate through the sparsely furnished house. The boy shuffled into the kitchen where his father sat at the round table, nursing a sweating glass of nameless liquor. He was dressed in clothes that he only wore when he went out, and so, Inuyasha was somewhat comforted, as he knew he'd now be able to nurse his impending injuries in private.

"Inuyasha, do I stammer?" he asked. His voice was calm. Inuyasha hated that voice, deceivingly comforting in its tone.

"No, Sir," the boy mumbled. He kept his head bowed, eyes carefully trained at the floor. His ears pressed flat against his head.

"Is the Japanese that I speak quite clear?"

"Yes, Sir." The man nodded, a slight frown marring his face.

"Hm. I thought so. Then…you can understand me quite plainly when I speak to you," he reiterated.

"Yes, Sir." 'Just hit me and get it over with!' Inuyasha screamed at him mentally. 'Just finish the damn thing, please…'

"I thought so…do you know what time it is, Boy?"

"I…um…after four, Sir."

"It's four oh-nine."

"It was an accident…" Inuyasha began. "I…I was only looking for the front office, and then this horrible teacher came out of nowhere and—"

"Did I ask you for an explanation?" the man roared, slamming a palm flat on the table and making it and the boy jump.

"No, Sir," he whispered.

"Did I not say this morning that I didn't want any of your, _shit_, Inuyasha? Didn't I say that?" he yelled, standing up.

"Yes, Sir."

"Detention. Your sorry ass goes and gets a detention on your _first _fucking day of school!" he raged on. He stepped closer to his son, his fists shaking with fury. "You get in a fight too?"

"No, Sir! I wasn't fighting anyone, I just—"

"Don't you _lie_ to me, you filthy trash! Do you think I'm stupid? I can smell the stench of your _blood_," he spat. "A fight with a human! A puny _human_ made you bleed! Do you know how much of an embarrassment you are?" Inuyasha said nothing. His father laid his hands into his chest and shoved him hard, forcing the boy to the floor, his books skidding across the wooden planks. "Answer me, you twit," he sneered dangerously.

"Yes, yes, Sir…I'm sorry I—"

"Don't speak. Don't say one more fucking word, you disgusting little halfwit. I don't to hear one more word out of your mouth…"

He braced against the floor, practically hyperventilating from the intense feeling of dread that washed over him and made him nauseous. His father's eyes segued from the rich gambol gold color that so closely mirrored his own into a furious lattice red. The boy whimpered and leaned away ever-so-slightly. That was all it took to bring a reckoning down on him.

* * *

Inuyasha sat bent over on the lid of the toilet seat, his head between his knees, hands clamped tightly around his ankles as he tried to rid himself of the nausea that washed over him in waves. He had lost count of how many times he'd clenched his throat to bite back the bile that threatened to spew forth. He couldn't throw up—rather, he couldn't _allow_ himself to throw up. That would only upset his father all the more, if he were to come back to the house and catch the scent of vomit. He'd lose his temper with Inuyasha simply for being so weak to give in to an urge so revolting.

Feeling the blood pounding in his skull from his awkward position, Inuyasha jerkily sat up and let the blood continue to flow normally before standing. He staggered out of the tiny bathroom, ignoring the mirror. He didn't need it to know how terrible he looked. He didn't want to see reflected back at him the discoloration that he knew mottled his right side. He didn't want to see his busted, bleeding lip, nor the outline of four fingers circling around his windpipe. He'd seen it all before. No need to rehash what had already been known to him.

He limped down to the base of the stairs where the phone sat in its wall cradle quite innocently. With a shaking hand, he picked it up and punched a number into its pad. He held the phone to his mouth, and the earpiece fell short of his ear, instead hitting at the place behind where his ears should have been, where he wished they were. It was of no consequence; he could still hear the ringing just fine.

"Hello?" came the voice, smooth, yet clipped and brisk.

"Sesshomaru?" Inuyasha asked needlessly, knowing it was him already.

"Yes. Who is this?" he asked, sounding annoyed and impatient.

"It's Inuyasha," he said softly.

"Oh, Inuyasha…I'm sorry, I didn't even look at the ID," he said quickly, allowing some of the annoyance to slip out of his voice. "What do you need?"

"Well…I was just wondering…when you were coming to visit again? Like…maybe you could come soon?" he asked, allowing hope to lilt his voice. The pause, followed by a long sigh caused those feelings to flee as quickly as they'd come.

"I don't know when that's going to happen, I'm afraid…I'm pretty tied down right now. Did I tell you I'm in Europe? Just discussing some new contracts and such. Anyway, it's pretty hectic. I'm here for at least another month," he explained briskly. That was Sesshomaru: all cosmopolitan, sophistication, and business.

"Another month?" Inuyasha repeated despondently.

"At least," the man repeated. "Listen, Inuyasha, I've got to go, I'm right in the middle of a meeting."

"But, I—"

"Tell Father that I'll be sure to bring him back some of that fine French wine he loves so much, alright? I'll bring you back…well…something. Just tell him that. I really have to go."

"Sess, wait—"

"Inuyasha, please. Don't whine, now. It's unbecoming, and quite frankly, you're getting a bit old for it. I tire of this routine. Try being a bit more outgoing or something instead of staying cooped up in the house all of the time. Now I really must go."

"Sesshomaru—" The line was dead. Inuyasha stared gloomily at the phone for a long moment before balancing it in its cradle once more.

He would count the days until his brother came back. He always had. It wasn't because they were so incredibly close. They weren't. In fact, Inuyasha was fairly certain that Sesshomaru knew next to nothing about him, and probably couldn't care less that he did.

The fact of the matter was that things went better for him when Sesshomaru was around.

Inuyasha looked forward to the man's visits as a father looks forward to the return of his prodigal son. Though incredibly rare and fleeting in their length, those visits were the only times when Inuyasha actually enjoyed being at home.

It was like Sesshomaru knocked twenty years off their father's life whenever he was around. He became young again. His father would laugh and smile and actually act like a real father. Even to Inuyasha…sometimes.

Sesshomaru would always take his father out to dinner or to a baseball game that he had box seats for, or some other father-son activity. Once, Sesshomaru had even artfully persuaded their father to let Inuyasha tag along, when he was fourteen. It had been one of the best nights of his life. They'd gone to see a movie, and then taken a walk around the streets of Tokyo during a street fair. Taishou had spoken exclusively to Sesshomaru, as the younger inuyoukai had done the same, only speaking to his father, with Inuyasha simply tagging along a few steps behind them. But he'd been content to simply listen to their chat and watch as his talented older brother made their father laugh and smile. And for the briefest of moments, Taishou turned around and flashed Inuyasha the tiniest of half-smiles.

It was only a brief, upwards twitching of his lips. But on a face that had only directed scowls and expressions of rage towards Inuyasha, the boy recognized it for what it was immediately and had frozen completely in absolute shock. It was the only time he'd ever felt like maybe, just maybe, they were a tiny family.

Sesshomaru was the light in his father's life, with his commanding presence, his successful, self-made business, and, of course, his pure blood.

The deep, throbbing, painfully obvious inadequacy that Inuyasha always felt around the man was constantly just under the flesh, only needing the slightest hint from his father to sting anew. Even still, he couldn't hate his older brother. His feelings were quite the opposite, really. There were times when Inuyasha wanted nothing more than to be just like Sesshomaru: flawless, successful, and, of course, pure; free from what he felt was his curse: his filthy blood. It pained him to say, that as much as his father hurt, demeaned, and hated him, he still wanted to make the man proud. He still yearned for the man's approval, for even something as simple as a word of praise to pass from the man's lips to his own ears.

In all honesty, Inuyasha didn't care whether he was full demon or full human. Either one would have done him just fine. What he _didn't_ want to be was a hanyou. A half-breed. An unfinished monster, as if stuck in some the middle of some strange metamorphosis. He wanted to look into the mirror and like what he saw. As a half-breed, he knew, he would never like what he saw. He wanted to be _all_ of something. All human blood, or none at all. All demon blood, or none at all. It didn't matter. Just not _this_.

Inuyasha staggered his way back upstairs. At the moment, he wanted nothing more than to bundle up and run away to his private getaway, and make his escape. But hurting like he was, he knew he would be unable to make the trip quickly, and therefore, wouldn't be able to return home before his father.

Once inside of his room, Inuyasha slumped into his bed, pulling the blanket over his shivering form, over his head. He had homework, he knew. He just wanted to take a small nap and escape for a bit before reality smacked him once more.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Wow, even _I'm_ depressed.

I hope everyone is okay with this pace. I know, it's kind of slow, but I'm building it up eventually, don't worry. I'm not going to tell it a day every three chapters at a time, that'd be awful. I'm just trying to explore Inuyasha's sad little head right now, and give some detail and some background.

And if anyone is worried about Sango and Miroku, yes, they will be in this story---Just not yet.

Oh, and I thought I made the teacher obvious, but I guess not.

Hint: His name is an anagram.

You know what to do! Review!


	4. It Begs the Question

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, Rumiko Takahashi does. I don't own Starbuck's either…if I did, I'd be making typos all over the place from caffeine rushes, and also quite the unhealthy wretch from my extreme caloric intake….But I do _love_ Starbuck's….

Author's Notes:

I recently got what I felt was a nasty little review on my fic _Roundabout Way_, from someone who is very adept at either skipping over Author's Notes completely, or at misinterpreting them entirely. (The review is only on However, I'm not entirely sure that I can call it a true review, as the person chose to rant on and on about what I _didn't _write, and what I _didn't _address, as opposed to giving a constructive critique. I sincerely hope that particular person is reading this, so they can know just how I feel about that comment.

I can't even respond to this person directly, because they didn't sign in. But I want to address something. Firstly, this person asks why I don't address Sango's continual abuse by way of her oversized boomerang. I'd just like to say, that I didn't write about Sango and Miroku in _Roundabout Way_ because it wasn't a Sango and Miroku fic. It was purely Inuyasha-centered, as was made obvious through the dialogue, which was 90 _Inuyasha_. In no way, form or fashion did I condone Sango beating Miroku. I did not say it was acceptable. I simply didn't write about it, because they were not the focus of the story. I am not obligated to address every little aspect of the series in one little fic, clearly labeled as a _one-shot._

Secondly, it was specifically stated in the Author's Notes that I do not _enjoy_ portraying Kagome as a bitchy little brat. That Kagome was, in fact, what you could call a foil of the Kagome that I _do _enjoy writing. If anything, _Roundabout Way _was almost parody-like. (A darker, albeit not _funny_ parody, but a story meant to make a different point that what the original author intended.)

And thank you for your concern over my learnedness, 'person to not be named', but my writing, nor my mind, is not so flimsy and weak-willed as to be permeated by "several lackluster fanfics". I write what I write because _I_ want to write it.

Lastly, forgive me if I do not hang onto Rumiko Takahashi's every word. I think she is talented, I think she is creative, I think she has an extraordinary gift, and I respect her. But I am by no means an expert on her. If she's stated that all of the sits and boomerang-beatings are purely for comic relief, that's all fine, but just be aware that her interviews, commentaries and whatnot, while numerous, I'm sure, are not readily accessible to everyone who is an Inuyasha fan. I'm pretty sure you don't have to have recorded tapes of every public appearance the creator has ever made to be a fan, or to enjoy what she has made.

Thank you.

Okay, I'll get off of my soapbox, now! Sorry, everybody, but I just felt I needed to address it _somewhere_, and, like I said, I couldn't respond directly to the person.

Anyway, thank you to all those who _did_ enjoy _Roundabout Way_ for what it was.

Alright, back to happy-wowzer313, now!

Oh, and hey, AutumntheReviewer—did I really turn Kagome into a flake? LOL! That was purely accidental!

Okay, that's _really_ it.

Read on, IY lovers, read on! (I think that's a commercial…for Febreze, which I also don't own. You know, "Spray on, freshness lovers, spray on!)

**Chapter 4**: It Begs the Question

"Because he keeps _bugging _me, Eri! I'm so sick of getting phone calls at strange hours of the day, and I'm running out of closet space to shove all those novelty gifts…" Kagome trailed off. She crumpled and un-crumpled the top of her paper bag lunch as she and her friend maneuvered through the maze of lunch tables.

"But he's so _cute_…" Eri pouted. "And I think the gifts he gives you are nice…a bit outlandish…maybe even useless, but nice even still…"

"They'd be nice if I actually had use for them. Or even _liked _them. Eri, how much can he _really_ like me? I mean, he hardly knows anything _about_ me, and he obviously hasn't put much effort into finding anything out, since he keeps giving me stuff I'm not interested in, and—" She saw, out of the corner of her eye, a table in the corner of the cafeteria strewn about with papers and books—an unusual sight by itself. 'Who does their _homework _at _lunch_?' she thought. But then when she recognized the lone figure sitting at the table, she got excited. "_Hey!_" she exclaimed, quite loudly, even she had to admit. She grabbed Eri's wrist and pulled the girl along in the other direction.

"Kagome! Wait, where are we going?" the confused girl asked.

"To meet somebody," Kagome answered vaguely. She plowed right through the middle of the cafeteria and came to stand abruptly by the boy's side. "Hi!" she said brightly. The boy's head jerked up so fast, Kagome thought he'd surely have whiplash. The crippling shock in his unusual eyes was so evident that she was hard pressed to stifle her laugh. "I didn't know you had this lunch! I would have—"

"Kagome!" Eri whispered.

"Oh, sorry. This is Eri, the girl I was telling you about yesterday? Eri, this is Inuyasha. He's in our Bio class seventh period. I think we can make some room for you at our lab table if you wanna sit—"

"Kagome…"

"…with us in class. There's only supposed to be two to a table, but I'm sure Ms. Sakagami will make an excep—"

"_Kagome_!" Erisuddenly hissed, jerking on her wrist quite painfully.

"_Ow, _Eri! _What_?" Kagome snapped. Eri looked pointedly at the boy, who had still not said a word, but only sat staring at them both, and dragged her talkative friend a few feet away.

"That's _him_," Eri emphasized, jerking her chin in the boy's general direction.

"_Him_, who?" Kagome questioned, clueless. Eri sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes.

"Kagome, do you ever listen to _any_ gossip?" Eri bonked her friend on the head with a light fist. "It's the _half-breed_," she said, enunciating every syllable. Kagome frowned at her.

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?"

"It means he's only half human, _duh_," Eri sighed.

"I know _that_, Eri, I'm not _stupid_. I meant, when you point out so tactlessly that he's a hanyou, what exactly am I supposed to say back?" Kagome asked crossly. She folded her arms and regarded the girl skeptically. Eri stared at her friend. "Is there something important that you're implying when you say it like that?"

"Kagome…"

"I'm only asking, Eri," she said snippily. She glanced briefly at the boy, once again hunched over his papers and writing like mad. "How did you find out?"

"Ayumi told me. She's in his Lit & Comp class, fourth period, and _she_ said that Mr. Akuran made him take off his hood yesterday. She said he's got white hair and….I dunno, weird ears," Eri whispered conspiratorially, her hands gesturing to the crown of her own head. "She said they looked like dog ears or something, so maybe he's half inuyoukai. She wasn't sure, though. All I know is that she said they weren't _near_ normal, and they were on top of his head. Real freak show, if you ask me—"

"I don't think I did," Kagome said softly, distractedly. She was still looking at the boy, who, every so often would glance in their direction, and then hurry to turn his attention back to his books.

"Kagome, seriously. There's some pretty…colorful…rumors flying around about him, and I think—"

"Already? But it's only his second day! How can there be—"

"Oh, believe me. There's plenty. Everyone's saying he's some kind of government lab escapee, or that maybe he—"

"Eri, you're ridiculous. Honestly, do you _hear_ yourself?" Kagome asked, genuinely surprised by the rubbish spewing from her friend's mouth. "Do you believe everything you hear?"

"I'm not saying I believe it, I'm only telling you what _I've_ heard. And what other people are saying," Eri said solemnly. Suddenly her face wrinkled into a confused frown as she remembered something. "And wait, what was that you said to him? 'That girl I told you about _yesterday_'? Kagome! You talked to him _yesterday_? Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't know talking to some obscure boy was front page news for you, Eri," Kagome said dryly. "Anyway, I got him all wet when my car got stuck in the snow. I just gave him a ride home," Kagome said innocently.

"You _gave_ him a ride _home_?" Eri drawled, her eyes wide.

"Is it absolutely necessary that you repeat _everything_ I tell you?"

"Don't you tell a _soul_. If you do, _everyone_ will talk—and you don't want people getting the wrong idea…"

"You know, Eri….if he _is_ half inuyoukai…he can probably _hear_ you," Kagome said softly, frowning a bit at her friend.

"So?"

"Don't you think it's just the tiniest bit tactless?" Kagome pressed, her voice hardening. "I mean, you're standing not even ten feet away from him, talking about him like he's a social _disease_."

"That's what you're not getting!" Eri exclaimed. "He _is_ a social disease! Already! That's why I'm warning you, as your friend not to get involved, because I _know_ how you are—"

"Well, I'm going to go talk to him for a few minutes. You're welcome to come with. If you don't want to, then, by all means, go to the regular table. I'll be along when I'm ready, so don't wait up," Kagome said flippantly, and began to flounce off before Eri caught her messenger bag by the strap.

"Kagome, please, _please_ don't turn this into one of your little crusades…" Eri entreated, tugging on her bag for emphasis. Kagome stared at her with disbelief.

"Eri, if my memory serves me correctly, didn't _you _reap the benefits of one of my 'little crusades'?" she asked, her tone surly. "Or did you just move to Tokyo and immediately have Ayumi, Sango, Miroku, and I? Because I seem to remember that you were shy. You were lonely, you were self-conscious. And isn't everyone in their first couple of days at a new school? And I _don't_ recall anyone propagating stupid rumors about you either," Kagome rushed on, on a small, indignant tirade.

She jerked her bag's strap out of the stunned girl's hand. "Kami, Eri, grow up and try to have a little empathy." And with that, she walked briskly back to the boy's table and slid into the seat one over from him, leaving an empty one between. She didn't want to spook him; he seemed like the skittish type.

"Hey," she said quietly with a small, reassuring smile. He didn't say anything. But then, she hadn't expected him to. The all-out, no holds barred, flabbergasted stare he gave her was just what she was expecting. "You're welcome to eat lunch at our table if you want…don't mind Eri, she's…ah, I'm not sure just what her problem is. I should have known, though. She can be a bit of a gossip. Sorry about that," she said apologetically.

"There's something wrong with you," he told her flatly, still regarding her with that look of shock on his face. She gave a short, incredulous laugh.

"Something wrong with _me_? Why?" He gave her a pointed look, and then glanced at the place in front of him, then back at her. "Because I'm sitting here talking to you?" Kagome deduced. He nodded. "Well…do you not want company? I can leave if you want to be alone that badly…"

"No!" he exclaimed, then his eyes went wide, and he bit his lip and looked away quickly. "I mean…shit….I meant, you know….didn't you hear anything your friend just said?" he asked her. "It's all true, you know."

"That you're a hanyou?"

"That I'm a freak show," he clarified. "Or that I'm a social disease, take your pick," he added offhandedly. She looked at him uncomfortably, and he looked back at her dryly. Self-deprecation made her uneasy. "You might wanna get back to your friends. Wouldn't want them getting the wrong idea," 'I _knew_ he could hear her,' Kagome thought angrily.

"They'll be fine," she said flippantly, waving a hand. He squinted at her, cocking his head to the side and giving her a quizzical look.

"You mean to tell me you didn't know?" he asked.

"Didn't know what?" He gave her another pointed look, almost poisonous in its intensity. "That you're a hanyou?" she repeated. He sighed and rolled his eyes, apparently thinking her slow. "Well…I don't know…I guess I didn't really think about it…I mean, you looked human enough to me…Guess I just didn't notice," she shrugged.

"You couldn't have possibly thought yellow eyes were normal," he pointed out, his voice flat and deadpan. Again, Kagome shrugged.

"I figured maybe you had contacts or something…I think they're rather pretty, actually," she said casually. She could have sworn she saw the beginning of an especially prominent blush spreading across the bridge of his nose, but he looked down too quickly for her to be sure, the side of his hood hiding his face from her view.

"And you…now that you know…you're not afraid of me?" he asked, his voice low and raw. Kagome gave a short, slightly confused laugh.

"Um…no…why? Should I be? Do I have a reason to be?"

"Most people do," he muttered, looking at her out of the corner of his eye. There was a strange look on his face that Kagome couldn't quite decipher.

"Well…I don't really see one…I mean, you don't really incite feelings of terror in me…sorry," she added. He nodded jerkily and began to chew his lip, and Kagome could now see one of what she was sure was a pair of fangs that held the place where his canine teeth should have been.

She leaned her elbows on the table and looked at the papers he was working on. "So, whaddya got here?" she asked brightly. Her eyes scanned his various homework papers, which she recognized as packets that her Biology class had already completed. 'Sakagami must be forcing him to make up the work…all that work…jeez, talk about unfair…' she thought. "That's quite a workload you got there," she told him solemnly, giving him a grave look. He scowled at her and snatched the pile away from her view.

"Thanks for the reminder," he said sarcastically. "Bitch gives me till fucking _Thursday_," he grumbled to himself under his breath. Kagome discreetly opened the flap of her messenger bag and pulled out her binder. She flipped it open to the section marked 'Biology' and deftly unclipped a thick stack of papers from the rings. She silently slid the stack across the table to him, and waited for his gaze to fall upon it.

"Wh-what…what is this?" he asked, pinching the heap of papers.

"You don't have to take it if you don't want to…I know I kind of come off like a ditz sometimes," Kagome said, ignoring his question. "My friends all say I'm a bit of a spazz…guess that's true, too…But, I actually get pretty good marks," she said leadingly. He still looked confused. "I've got an A in Bio…the marks on the top don't lie. They're pretty much all correct," she stated slyly.

The expression of total and utter astonishment that adorned his face was priceless, and Kagome wanted to roll on the floor laughing. She closed her binder and stowed it away, and then stood, slinging her messenger bag over one shoulder.

"And…you've got Mr. Akuran for Lit & Comp, right?" He nodded. "Right…well, I'm his aid for second hour, and I'll let you in on a little secret. He's planning a pretty killer pop quiz for Thursday…So, you know, if _I_ were in that class, I'd review chapters nine and ten pretty extensively….especially the theme of the public versus the private self," she nodded sagely. His jaw hung slightly ajar as he stared at her.

"Wh-why are you telling me this?" he asked, his voice soft and unsure.

"Because…I think everybody deserves a break. I have a feeling you don't get many," she explained simply with a small shrug. She smiled warmly. "See you in Bio." And she walked away before he could say anything else.

Inuyasha sat, mouth agape, staring after the girl in the brightly colored forsythia-yellow sweater, a color he admitted to himself that he'd love to experiment with. She stuck out, and not just because she was wearing an obscenely bright sweater amidst the sea of muted, cool neutrals, so typical of wintertime.

His gaze fell to the neat stack of papers that she'd pushed his way. There, in her neat, flowing characters were the answers to the mound of work he'd been struggling through since the previous night, unable to comprehensively get through a fraction of it.

Now he had all the answers, presented oh-so-willingly to him, practically on a silver platter. He reached for the first packet, his pencil poised over his own sheet ready to write. Something stilled his hand.

It wasn't that Inuyasha had a problem with copying answers. He had absolutely no qualms about cheating whatsoever. Like Kagome said, he never _did_ get a break….why not take advantage of one when the opportunity presented itself?

He paused because he couldn't figure the girl out. She was a full-fledged conundrum, and she puzzled him to no end. He couldn't understand just what she was doing by talking with him and acting so damned _nice._ Inuyasha frowned. He knew how to handle the Eris of the world. He just didn't know how to deal with the Kagomes.

Pushing his inherent confusion for the girl in question aside, he flipped open her pages of homework, and made quick work of transferring the answers to his own.

* * *

Kagome could tell he didn't know how to approach her. His body language simply _screamed_ 'I'm uncomfortable!' as he attempted to lean casually against the wall outside of their Biology class. She and Eri had stopped to talk to a few other passing students as the bell had dismissed classes. She hadn't noticed him ghosting well beyond the outskirts of their little circle until Eri nudged her and hissed, "Tell him to go away,", jerking her head in the boy's direction.

Kagome nudged Eri back, none too gently, and told her friends to wait up for her at the entrance to the school.

"Hey, you," she greeted brightly. He jolted a bit at her voice, as he seemed to be studying with a fierce intensity her papers. He glanced down at her, then beyond her at her retreating group of friends.

"You coulda kept talking…I coulda waited."

"You really wouldn't have wanted to wait for me to finish talking….have you forgotten who you're talking to here?" she joked. He let out a small puff of air…which _could_ have been construed as laugh…but Kagome wasn't quite sure, because he hadn't smiled.

"Well…here," he muttered, and pushed the stack of papers at her.

"You finished? You got a chance to copy everything?" she asked, astonished, taking the load from his hands. He nodded.

"Yeah….did some of it in sixth….anyway…um, thanks. You didn't have to do that," he mumbled his gratitude, choosing to look just over the top of her head as opposed to her face.

"Oh, it's no problem," Kagome waved it off gaily. "I don't think it's quite fair that she only gave you till Thursday…there's no way you were gonna get all _that_ done with out a little push," she said with a smile.

"Yeah, okay…well…bye," he grunted awkwardly, and abruptly turned to vacate the hallway. Kagome trotted a few steps after him.

"Hey, wait," she said, tugging gently on the sleeve of his jacket—the same one, she noticed, that she'd inadvertently drenched the previous day. He was so skittish—jerked away from her touch, his eyes widening at her with a dubious look. "Sorry…um…hey, I was just thinking: a couple of us were going to Starbuck's—it's just down the road—for hot drinks and stuff. Anyway, I just wanted to see if maybe you'd wanna come too?" she offered, a cheery grin adorning her face.

Inuyasha frowned deeply at her, his dark brows drawing up, and, Kagome thought, he almost looked sad.

"No," he answered softly.

"No? But, why not?" she asked, the smile slipping from her lips. She'd thought for sure he'd want to come along.

"Just no," he bit out, beginning to turn away again. Kagome caught his sleeve once more. He yanked out of her grip, scowling. "Let me _go_."

"What's wrong? Don't you want to meet new people? Make friends? This is a way you can do it."

"_No_," he reiterated, now, thoroughly annoyed.

"But _why_?" Kagome stressed. "I'm only trying to be nice here, and I don't understand why you don't want to—"

"You listen to me, and you listen good. I don't know what exactly you're trying to pull here. I'll admit, you've really thrown me for a loop, and I don't exactly get your game just yet. But whatever the hell you're playing, I _don't_ want to be a part of it. So just leave me the hell alone, and get your kicks somewhere else," he growled in a low voice. For a moment, Kagome could only stare at him as she couldn't help but think that that was the most he'd ever spoken at one time. In the next moment, she was indignant, and beginning to get mad.

"What are you _talking_ about?" she exclaimed. He glared at her hard, folding his arms over his chest.

"Don't play dumb," he said darkly. "I may not be as smart as some people, but I'm not completely stupid. I haven't figured out your angle, but I'm willing to bet you've got some kind of trick or some shit like that—"

"That's ridiculous! I don't have an 'angle'! Where did you get an idea like _that_ from?"

"Experience has taught me well, _Princess_," he spat nastily, sarcastically. "Don't try pulling your bullshit over on me, because I'm not gonna—"

"What _bullshit_ are you _talking_ about? Will you _please_ talk some _sense_?" she almost screamed. She was ready to pull her hair out by the roots. He was infuriating!

"I _am _talking sense!" he shouted back. "The _bullshit_ that every kid at every fucking school feels obligated to put me through! I'm fucking _sick_ of it! I'm sick of being the butt of every stupid, unoriginal joke! I'm not gonna be caught in one of your dumb pranks or any of the other _bullshit_ you've got up your sleeve!" he bellowed. Kagome just stared at him. He was absolutely livid, she could tell, but she still was unsure just what she'd done wrong. His face was red with his yelling, and to Kagome's eyes, he looked seriously ill.

"I haven't _done_ anything, though…I haven't made…um, jokes. I haven't done any of that, so I don't understand why you're so upset with me…" she trailed off. His face had changed yet again. Now, he was only watching her with somewhat detached interest, his face now drawn into a guarded, suspicious frown. Then, he did something that, up until that point, Kagome didn't know he was capable of doing. He smiled.

It was one of the most disturbed, sick smiles she'd ever seen. His lips turned down, and he shook his head, and it was almost a grimace.

"You're good," he said in a low voice. He began to clap slowly. "You're really, really good. And I applaud you, you deserve it. You've got the act down completely. You've got the little smile, and the talk, and all the great ability to act like you're not completely repulsed by me. Good job. I fucking commend you," he spat derisively.

Kagome could only stare at him as he appeared to have what was the equivalent of a mental breakdown right before her very eyes.

"What is your problem?" she murmured. She hadn't intended for him to hear it. She was only murmuring to herself, truly concerned, as he seemed to be genuinely upset. He whirled around, walking backwards as he addressed her.

"In case you hadn't noticed, I have many!" he shouted, his hands motioning to the top of his head. Kagome assumed he was referring to his ears. He threw his hands up in the air, and stalked down the corridor, his footsteps echoing off the walls, leaving the baffled girl to stare after him.

Author's Notes:

I'm gonna try to speed it up a bit after the end of chapter five, 'cause I wanna get to some good stuff… I'm hoping my transitioning isn't too choppy…

I've pretty much got the entire story planned out; it's just a matter of actually _writing_ it…and filling in the holes. So, no need to fear, this story will be finished!

Um…that's pretty much it!

3 Wowzer313


	5. Smears

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, Rumiko Takahashi does. I don't own Brillo Pads either…I have no idea who owns those.

Author's Notes:

I feel really bad, guys and gals…(not physically, lol)

Okay, so after the last big author's notes, I guess maybe I turned some people off. I feel like I've made an absolute mess of things, and I'm all worried that maybe I've lost a bunch of people's respect in me, lowered people's opinion of me, or lost my credibility and whatnot. I hope that hasn't happened…so I just wanna say, to clear the air:

_**I'M SORRY!**_

If I offended, hurt, or turned anyone off, I'm sorry. _Roundabout Way _wasn't meant to offend, the author's note wasn't meant to offend. Perhaps I could have been a bit more tasteful, I don't know. Tact…ya gotta have it. Anyway, I don't want to lose any readers or anything because of something stupid. Maybe I shouldn't even _write_ author's notes anymore…

So let's just forget the whole thing and move on, okay? (But if anyone just really feels the need to say anything about it, then could ya do me a favor and email me directly? Because when the review number goes up, I get happy, but then when I read it and it's bad, I get sad….at least with email I don't feel so darn exposed….)

So…now that I've apologized and I promise to play nicely with all the other writers/readers, can everybody go back to liking me again? Please?

Hehehe…

Anyway…..onward!

**Chapter 5**: Smears

'4-9-2-9-6-4, enter,' Inuyasha punched the number into the dilapidated keypad that sat in the small niche of the immense building he stood in front of. He heard a faint buzz and a click as the locks opened to allow him entry into the seedy-looking building. Adjusting his backpack on his shoulder, he entered the door of the complex, wriggling his hands in his pockets against the cold.

He stepped gingerly over the puddle of melted snow that had collected in the small dip in the floor and leaned his elbows on the long ramshackle counter that corded off a secretarial area. He was feeling impatient. He had some time, but he didn't have all the time in the world, and he wanted to get to his flat as soon as he could.

"There you are, finally," a gravelly old voice came. Inuyasha gave the gnarled old man a bored, slightly annoyed look. "I've needed these boxes moved since Saturday. Where have you been?" he groused, motioning to the back door at the far end of the dirty foyer.

"Couldn't get away. My dad's been home a lot lately," Inuyasha said briefly. He slipped his bag off and stowed it behind the counter, rolling up the copious sleeves of his sweatshirt to his elbows. The man squinted at him through one bulbous eye, the other securely screwed shut.

"Alright, then. There's a lot of boxes that I need moved up to the second floor. Elevator's down, so you'll have to take the stairs. There's some garbage in the basement that needs tending too…Then I'm going to need you to fix the flat I got on the way over here…" he rattled off, ticking the tasks off on long, knobby fingers. "After that you can do….whatever it is that you do," he dismissed Inuyasha, waving his hands about, the boy's eyes trailing the flapping appendages with rapt attention.

His hands were always something Inuyasha had a morbid fascination in. They were long and slender, yet had knuckles like Brillo pads, thick, tough, and knotted from years of bouts with arthritis. The nails were yellowed, thick and brittle-looking, mottled with black stains from heavy labor over the previous years. The skin was papery and thin, seeming so fragile that the lightest touch could cause a major bruise. The prominent varicose veins mapped their way across the expanse of the appendages like fat, mesclun-green worms. They were the most disgusting hands he'd ever seen. Somehow, though, when they caught his attention, Inuyasha couldn't look away from them.

"Well? What are you waiting for? Get a move on! Your money's in the cabinet here, so don't forget to take it. I've already taken out your payment for the month," he added, shooing the staring boy away. He had to be grateful to the old man, cantankerous and strange as he was, for he'd given Inuyasha a way to do what he loved after he thought he'd lost it. Inuyasha shook his head and ambled out to the parking lot behind the warehouse to assess the load he'd have to move.

After hauling the numerous boxes to the second floor, and arranging them in a manner which only he could decipher, he proceeded to take the mountains of garbage that cluttered the basement floor out back to the foul-smelling dumpsters that lined the outside wall of the warehouse.

Finally, he faced the old man's rusted-out shell of a Buick, armed with the lug wrench. The man had no jack, and so, Inuyasha propped the car's front left end up on a few cinderblocks.

Dirty work aside, the boy dutifully collected his bag and payment from the specified cabinet and ascended the stairs to the uppermost floor, and down the corridor to the room in the furthest corner.

Kneeling on his haunches, he unlocked the heavy padlock that kept the terra cotta-reddish rolling steel door securely bolted to the floor by a thick half-ring. He pulled the door up halfway open, and ducked to enter, sliding it shut behind him with a raucous clatter. All of a sudden, the tension, confusion and flat-out frustration that had plagued him for the past few days simmered down to a tolerable level, one where he could make quick work of ridding himself of it all together.

For the first time in a few days, Inuyasha allowed a tiny smile to grace his lips as he stood amidst the beautiful chaos of his own little getaway, his paradise in the squalor of the storm.

Inuyasha deposited his backpack on the little hook in the corner and exchanged his sweatshirt and jeans for the ratty, paint-splattered t-shirt and sweatpants that were his uniform in this place. He crossed the stained poured cement floor in bare feet, running his claws over the coarse ridges of the brick wall to the large rack of bins in which his materials were housed.

Deciding that he didn't want to get too immersed in a project too detailed, Inuyasha pulled out the cheapest paints he owned and set them on the small rolling table, pulling that behind him while yanking the elastic band and cloth strip out of his hair and shaking it loose. Here, he could be whatever he wanted to be, no matter how conflicted he may have felt— uninhibited, vulgar, angry, euphoric.

He pulled a length of butcher paper off of the roll he kept in the corner of his makeshift studio, and tacked that up onto the cork strip he'd attached to the large, empty wall that served as the placement for whatever surface he chose to work with, be it canvas, gesso board, or paper.

Inuyasha flung a large piece of blue tarp over the racks and vertical slots that held his finished pieces, and then rolled the blanket and small pillow that served as his bed at times into a tight, secure roll underneath a table. He tended to get a bit messy in some of his more…enthusiastic sessions.

Though it was juvenile, and perhaps even a waste of paint and paper, there was nothing more therapeutic, Inuyasha thought, than flinging globs of color at a stainless background. Brushing his hands against the cool expanse of paper, he let out a deep sigh, before plunging three fingers into the puddle of cheery red and dashing in across the sheet with abandon.

He reveled in the slippery, sliding, carefree feeling of making an absolute mess. It felt good to feel to have something besides his own blood smear between his fingers. Dabbing his knuckles into the blob of yellow, the two colors began to mesh and create a tangy-orange.

Soon enough, his mind wandered from the wonderfully bright mess he was making to the day that had him so in need of a release of energy in the first place.

He'd bolted from the detention room as soon as the customary time was served, heading straight to the warehouse. It was Tuesday, and that meant free drinks for frequent customers until ten at Koizumi's. Between the liquor and the half-naked women that paraded around on the stage, his father was most definitely a frequent customer. 'He's practically got a key to the place,' Inuyasha thought bitterly, flinging a particularly large blob of bright red against the paper with a wet '_splat'_.

It was fine with him if his father wanted to stay out all hours of the night, living it up with strange, loose women and getting drunk out of his skull, as usual. It gave him time to get away. He only had to be sure he allowed himself sufficient time to thoroughly scrub down in Totosai's private shower, as to rid himself of the scent of paint and thinner. He could only imagine the magnitude of the punishment he would receive if his father found out about his secret rendezvous with the brush. If he weren't too inebriated to notice…as he _was_ the vast majority of the time. But Inuyasha knew it would be just his luck that the one time he failed to wash thoroughly enough, his father would notice and give him the thrashing of his life.

Now that he was in his element, at ease and more clear-headed, he couldn't help but think that maybe he'd handled the events of the day rather unwell. Alas, it was something he had been plagued with for as long as he could consciously remember: thinking back on decisions he made well after the fact, and wishing he could have handled them differently, better.

With a wince and a flick of his wrist to splash the paper with purple, he realized now just how badly he'd ranted to the girl in the hallway. He wasn't quite sure whether he'd had an audience or not, but either way, his lack of control over his words had undoubtedly put him in an unsavory situation.

His words echoed back to him. He'd cursed at her—not as extensively as he would have liked, but still…He'd basically insulted her, almost called her a bitch, but managed to hold his tongue at the last possible second, a small miracle in and of itself. Usually once he started, there was no way to stop himself, and so, he normally tried to avoid _starting_ in the first place.

Inuyasha pressed his palms flatly against the sheet, once, twice, and then again, spreading and closing his fingers on the last print. He bit his lip, his stomach giving an uncomfortable lurch. 'I'll probably be kicked out,' he thought dully. 'Again. For something so stupid.'

If the girl went to a teacher—the principal—he'd be dead. 'Wait. What am I talking about _if_? Change that to _when_,' he thought. Yes, _when_ the girl went to an authority figure, he'd be dead. Because he'd be kicked out, no doubt, for disrespecting a student or 'harrassing' a student, maybe even 'assaulting' a student. However they decided to spin their story, _he'd_ be the one taking the hard time for it. And then…then his dad would only have too much of a reason to beat him bloody. Again.

'Just like Asahara, Uboshita, and Ichikawa.' he mused. 'It can't be helped…history repeats itself, so the saying goes…It'd be a miracle if I even get my fucking diploma on time.'

At the mere thought of time, Inuyasha snapped out of his thoughts, and darted a look at the clock over the smeared window. It was already seven. He looked back at the myriad of colors that arched in graceful waves over the once-white paper, the prints of his own hands and fingers and cocked an eyebrow. He rather liked this…mess. He decided against chunking it, and left it to dry, proceeding to wash the plastic plates of the remaining paints in the scummy sink.

He sometimes amazed even himself that at sixteen years of age, he could still lose himself so completely in something so utterly juvenile. Perhaps that spoke volumes about his own psychosomatic development or lack thereof; he couldn't help but think it at times. Retrieving the bottle of low-odor paint thinner from underneath the sink, Inuyasha scrubbed under his claws with a small scouring brush, almost hard enough to make himself bleed. There could be no trace of paint anywhere.

He hurried across the hallway with his school clothes in arm to the Totosai's cramped bathroom. He and the old man were the only two that really ever ventured up to the top floor; he because he rented a flat there, and Totosai because the queer old man opted to _live_ up there.

He turned the water's temperature to near-scalding and stepped under the stream, noting with relief that the gouges across his belly looked _much_ better than they had from as recent as that morning, and _light-years_ better than they had the previous morning, their color now only a tad more startlingly white than the rest of his flesh. Scouring his body with the handy bar of soap, he was sure to attend to the flecks of blue that dotted his forearms. When he was satisfied that all the scents of paint had disappeared down the drain, he stepped gingerly onto the small rug, being careful to avoid the large, rather rancid looking biscay-colored stain that seemed to have a life of its own. Leaning over the tub, he firmly twisted his length of hair, letting the water drip languidly down the drain. His father wouldn't be likely to notice if his hair was damp, but he'd _surely_ notice if it was drenching the back of his clothes.

Yanking his clothes on at a hurried yet methodical pace, Inuyasha grabbed his bag from his flat and locked it securely, whispering a soft farewell and 'til next time.

Uttering a quick 'goodbye' to Totosai, who was at the time incapacitated in his rolling chair in front of a small black and white television behind the counter, Inuyasha stepped from his sanctuary into the dark coldness of the night, and proceeded to head to his house, thinking that maybe he should pull out the pamphlets for those other schools.

Perhaps he could go to another demon school, if one would take him.

"You failed your rhetorical devices test."

Inuyasha, not looking up from the notebook he was doodling in, sighed with exasperation. 'You're _quite_ the stubborn, vin_dic_tive little bitch, aren't you?' he thought with a sneer. He shifted his weight and propped the book up on his other knee, resuming his sketching as if she hadn't said a word.

"Hello? I said, you failed the rhetorical devices test," she repeated, stepping closer. Inuyasha looked up at her dryly from his seat on the floor.

"And? What of it?" he drawled.

"And…you failed the literary terms quiz, you bombed the test on The Allegory of the Cave, _and_ your essays have the analytical value of a preschooler's penmanship papers," she rattled off, ticking things on her fingers.

"So?" he snapped. He was getting angry now. Had he _asked_ for her input? "What the fuck do _you_ care? And why are you so fucking _nosy_? What gives you the right to look through my shit, huh?"

"I'm Mr. Akuran's _aid_ remember? Second hour? I _graded_ those tests. Except for the essays, of course. He grades those. I just enter the info into the computer for him." Inuyasha scowled at her and pointedly looked away.

He hated her. He hated her for playing this stupid, manipulative game with him; he hated her for being so damned _good_ at it. He hated her for making him angry. He hated her for making him so angry that he'd lost it and yelled and cursed at her publicly. He hated her because she was the reason he'd been anticipating, waiting a _week_ for the proverbial hammer to fall, for him to get that call to the principal's office and to have "the talk" and it hadn't come. He hated her for _not_ squealing on him and giving him closure on another failed attempt at school. But then…he'd have hated her for squealing as well.

He hated her for being so…so…in his face. So close, all the damned time. How she seemed to be everywhere he was, and never tire of the brush-offs he so readily handed out. He hated her because…she didn't seem to hate him. But he _knew_ she did—she _had_ to! _Everyone_ did! He hated her because she confused the _crap_ out of him. And he hated being confused.

So here he was, sitting on the cold, hard, tile floor, trying very hard to ignore the pushy, invasive, undoubtedly malicious girl, who was, coincidentally, the very reason he'd been kicked out of Mr. Akuran's hellish class in the _first_ place.

Mr. Akuran had been in rare form, even more vicious that usual. He'd pulled out an arsenal of what Inuyasha figured to be college grad school level questions; the kind of questions that would make a boy with a failing grade in Lit & Comp break out in a cold sweat—if he'd been paying attention.

Perhaps, had he been a bit more focused, he might have been able to pull out a fail-safe: a mindless-rambling-on-until-he-hit-something-passable answer. He tended to be very good at those, as years of practice while being lost in the shuffle of literary discussions had conditioned him to be. It wouldn't have been a stellar, University of Tokyo-worthy, _solid_ answer…but he might have gotten by with a slight frown of disapproval, a shrug, and a "Be more prepared next time, Chikamatsu." Nothing more, nothing less. And he would have been fine with that.

But, as his mind had been stewing on what _hadn't_ happened in the past week, namely, the expulsion he was _sure_ was right around the corner, he hadn't been prepared in the _least_ to answer:

"Describe to me, with specific details, the author's portrayal of the role of consumerism, superficiality, and infantilism throughout the novel, and how that portrayal has affected at least one or more of the characters, major or minor. Use pages forty through fifty-six to cite your reasons…Chikamatsu," the man purred. He held the small novel between the tips of his fingers, tapping the binding lightly against his chin, a smug smirk tugging at his thin lips.

Inuyasha's mind snapped back from his thoughts of expulsion at the sound of his name, and he dropped the lock of hair he'd been tensely toying with at once.

"Um…ah…" he started. He hadn't even heard the question; he'd only heard his name. He squinted, lips twitching with the beginnings of several attempts at answering. His mind was racing, synapses having a party. 'What do I say, what do I say, what do I _**say**_?' he thought. He fumbled weakly with the novel on his desk, not having a _clue _as to what he would be looking for if he were to open it. "I didn't raise my hand," he blurted, instantly regretting his runaway mouth. He bit his lip. _That_ was certainly _not_ the thing to say.

Mr. Akuran's mouth froze, and his book stopped its gentle tapping. A small chuckle escaped him.

"Did you hear that, class?" he asked the remainder of the students, most of whom were shooting snooty, self-righteous glances in his direction. "Chikamatsu says he didn't raise his hand." Mr. Akuran began to walk around the perimeter of the circle with slow, deliberate steps. "Class? Allow me to ask: does it _matter_ if a student raises his hand or not when I ask him a question?"

"No," came the resounding, unison reply. Inuyasha's ears, bared to the world, flattened.

"I didn't think so. And, class, is that student required to give an answer to said question, whether or not he's raised his hand?"

"Yes," the group agreed in accord once more.

"So, do you think I should let him off the hook? Give him a break, since, of course, he didn't raise his hand," the man said patronizingly.

"No." Inuyasha's stomach fell.

"I didn't think so either. Well, then. Chikamatsu, I'd say you're up. Answer the question," Mr. Akuran said simply, leaning against the occupied seat of a student. Inuyasha cleared his throat.

"Ah…actually, do you think you could, you know, um…repeat the question? I didn't quite catch the tail-end of it—"

"Repeat the question?" Mr. Akuran asked, incredulous. "_Repeat _the _question_?" The man briskly stepped back into the circle and slapped a hand on Inuyasha's desk. "Does this look like an _elementary_ level Literature and Composition class to you, Chikamatsu?" His voice was a cool storm, calm, yet malevolent.

"No—I just didn't catch the end of your ques—"

"Well, you certainly are _treating_ it as though it were one. If your abysmal grade didn't say it all, then your paltry class participation speaks volumes on its own. You don't take this class seriously, _do_ you, Chikamatsu?" he sneered. Inuaysha didn't answer. What was the point? Nothing he said would get him out of the hole he was in. The man straightened, and pointed a long finger towards the door.

"Outside," he commanded.

"What?"

"Out. Side," he repeated disdainfully. "If you want to treat this like an elementary level class, then I will treat _you_ like an elementary level student. Now go. Out. Side." Inuyasha stared at him incredulously. He couldn't have been serious. No one had ever sent him outside the classroom before….except for in elementary school. To be sent outside in _high _school…now _that_ was disgraceful. Mr. Akuran's finger jerked suddenly, emphasizing his adamancy to get the boy to head to the door. Inuyasha stood and took two steps.

"And take your filth as well." Inuyasha bowed his head and gathered his books and his bag. He tugged his hood to its rightful place atop his head, and closed the door just as Mr. Akuran redirected his question to another student, repeating the whole damn thing.

And _now_ the object of his misfortune, the bane of his mind at the moment, was standing almost directly over him, invading his space, actually having the nerve to _talk_ to him? After all _she'd done? _

It was unfathomable

Why couldn't he seem to escape her?

"If you keep on the way you are, you're gonna fail the semester, and then you'll have to take the class all over again," she pointed out.

"I couldn't care less," he lied haughtily.

"Liar," she accused. "You're already taking a sophomore Lit class as a junior. Do you _really_ want to be taking the _same_ sophomore Lit class as a senior? Because you're well on your way," she reasoned. He scowled down at his notebook, cursing her infallible logic. "You're lucky Daisuke only requires two years of Literature for graduation," she added.

"Okay, so now that you've pounded it into my head that I'm fucking stupid, what the fuck are you here for?" he snapped. She crossed her arms, shifting her weight onto one foot.

"I'm offering you my services as a tutor," she said matter-of-factly. He gave her a deadpan look.

"Fuck no." He winced. 'There I go again,' he thought. 'Just keep going, Inuyasha, just _see_ how far you can push her until she goes and tattles on your ass,' he thought bitterly.

"Why not?" she asked. He frowned.

"Why?" he spat back.

"Well, you obviously _need_ it," she said with a wince. He glared at her. "You've got a fifty-eight average," she pointed out.

"Keh! Thanks for pointing it out!"

"I'm only saying," she began. She sat down against the wall next to him, and didn't react when he quite pointedly butt-scooted away from her. 'Why in Kami's name is she so damned _invasive_?' he thought. "You need help. I can _give_ you help. I'm in the International Baccalaureate program," she explained.

"As fascinating as you may think that is, I really don't give a shit," he sneered. "And I don't need to be talked down to—I don't give a fuck about your bragging," he added. He figured he might as well say what was on his mind. 'I'm as good as kicked out anyways,' he reasoned.

"Sorry," the girl said meekly. "I…I didn't mean to sound snobbish. I'm only saying, as far as qualified tutors go, I'm pretty good," she explained.

"I don't got any money, so just forget it."

"I don't need pay." His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"See? See there? I knew it," he said slowly. "You just outed yourself."

"I did not! I mean, there's nothing _to_ out! I'm not…I mean that I'm not hiding anything," she stammered.

"Mm-hm. Okay. So if you tutor me, but I don't pay you for it, what do you get out of it?" he queried, an eyebrow raised skeptically. She shrugged, hands spread.

"The pleasure of your company?"

"You're an idiot," he said flatly. Was that her idea of a joke? He couldn't believe it. "Don't you have a class to be in or something?" Why wouldn't she go away? Why wouldn't she react to him _normally_? The questions plagued his mind.

"I'm actually only dropping off my history teacher's attendance roster. He forgot to turn in last week's," she explained briefly. "So, anyway, do you want my help or not?"

"I thought I made it painfully clear that I _don't_," he spat.

"Hm…you must not want to pass the class, then…" she said sympathetically, patronizingly.

"If I need your help to do it, I guess not," he said in a conciliatory manner. She frowned.

"That's funny…I didn't take you for the type to just accept defeat so easily. Especially when there's a way to avoid it," she said quietly.

"Well, there you go. Just goes to show you that you don't know me," he glowered, slapping his notebook shut and crossing his arms defiantly.

"I can only imagine how disappointed your parents will be when they see that failing grade…" she tutted. Inuyasha flinched. She'd unwittingly hit upon three very sensitive nerves.

One was his father. Disappointed would _not_ be the accurate word to describe the man's reaction. 'More like pure, unadulterated _rage_,' Inuyasha thought. He had experience in that area to know: a failing grade made for a very bruised, bloodied, and unconscious hanyou. Not to mention, he'd eventually have to face Sesshomaru's inevitable, cripplingly raw disapproval. That was the second nerve.

Inuyasha was fairly certain that his older half-brother was blissfully unaware of the constant torture he underwent in his own home. He wasn't so full of flighty and whimsical fancy, however, to think that if the man _was_ aware that he'd take him away from it all. Sesshomaru had a perfect job, perfect home somewhere in Kyoto, and a perfect life. Who'd want to mess all that up for a lowly half-breed?

That he would be beaten for having a failing grade was most assuredly out of Sesshomaru's realm of knowledge as well. However, he would not be deprived of the _knowledge_ of the failing grade itself.

Inuyasha could still remember the absolute, gnawing _shame_ he'd felt the first time he'd brought home a report card with a failing grade tarnishing it. His grade report had never been, by any means, stellar. He was pretty much average in almost everything excluding art. But with the glaring stain of 'F' marking its face, the piece of paper seemed almost diseased. He'd been in the fifth grade at the time, and just in the beginning of his 'acting-out stage' as some had called it. Sesshomaru was in high school, a senior, and the picture of brilliance with the grade report to match.

When the fated slip traded hands, his heart lurched. Peeking over his father's shoulder, Sesshomaru raised a carefully tweezed, disdainful eyebrow. The corners of his straight mouth twitched downwards, and his high forehead wrinkled almost imperceptibly.

His father was mad. Raging, spewing, spitting mad. But Sesshomaru…Inuyasha almost wept at the realization that he'd…disappointed this strangely beautiful and seemingly perfect creature that he was to call 'brother' so soon after meeting him. He hung his head and hid his face in shame, wishing that the man would not look upon him. Sesshomaru never failed. Sesshomaru never had trouble with classes. Sesshomaru was never unprepared.

It had amazed him that even after Sesshomaru left for the night with friends, even after his father had finished thrashing him, and even after he'd finished tending to his wounds and had retired for the night, that the person he hated disappointing the most was the one who had barely spoken three words to him since his relocation, and had decidedly the least to do with him as possible.

If he failed this class, the events would undoubtedly follow the same pattern as before. The only difference would be that his mother's death would not be so fresh, and he'd have nothing to blame his lack of effort on but himself…

His mother. The third nerve. There was no way he could stand to disappoint her again. He'd disappointed her so much throughout the childhood that coincided with the end of her life…she never said it. But he could feel it. A failing grade? What good would he be to her? What good would he be to watch down on from where she was? A failing grade? Again?

Inuyasha sighed as if he'd just been dealt a most cruel and unbearable fate.

Fine. He'd deal with her. He'd take her help for the remainder of the semester so that he could bolster his paltry average as much as possible and pass the mid term.

But he wouldn't let her get to him. He'd be the same as always, he promised himself. He wouldn't allow himself to be sucked into her little plot. He wouldn't allow himself to be laughed at, scorned, humiliated. Not again. He smirked inwardly. 'She asked for it,' he thought.

"Fine."

* * *

Kagome sauntered back to history class deep in thought. She could feel the boy's laser eyes piercing her back as she retreated down the corridor. But she was proud of herself. She'd accomplished something. 

"What I accomplished, I'm not exactly sure," she muttered to herself sardonically. Sure, she'd gotten the boy to finally agree—however grudgingly—to let her tutor him. But she wasn't exactly sure of her own motives.

She had no 'tricks' up her sleeve, as he seemed too prone to believe she did. She had no 'jokes' or 'bullshit'. She hadn't even the faintest idea as to what _kind _of 'joke' he was so hell-bent on trying to finagle out of her. But she wasn't sure just _why_ so was so inexplicably drawn to him.

He hadn't been particularly nice or polite. He hadn't even been civil. But….he was intriguing. He was indescribably, frustratingly intriguing, and she had to know just _why_ he appeared that way to her.

It could have been the fact that he was so blasted _silent_ most of the time, excluding of course, when he shouted or cursed at her. It could have been that he was a loner, and while social opportunities didn't exactly abound for him, he seemed to avoid any presented prospect for social interaction, shying away from it like oil from water. Perhaps it was because his eyes, golden and brilliant, were so darned _lonely _that simply _looking_ at him made her want to cry, and Kagome, as cheery as she was by nature, could not stand to see people sad. It could have been simply the fact that he was a hanyou, and she'd never seen one. Or perhaps it was the fact that he was so indescribably and eerily beautiful, and Kagome had to admit, he would have been a perfect subject for the greedy eye of her camera.

She wasn't quite sure. It could have simply been the fact that she was, admittedly, nosy, and felt the overwhelming, inexplicable compulsion to get to know and to get along with everyone she came into contact with. But Kagome was nothing if not stubborn, and damned if not curious, and she was _going_ to satisfy the insatiable urge she had so recently developed to solve the mystery, if any, that seemed to follow him like a dark cloud.

* * *

Author's Notes: 

I don't know why this chapter took me so long to write. Maybe it was a combination of feeling kind of down and out because of the reason mentioned in the other A/N. I dunno. Plus, I realized that school is starting in less than three weeks, and I hadn't done my summer reading, so it was Brave New World for me! (which I loved! I mean, it was very disturbing. Creepy, obscene, and scary, but I really thought it was a good read! Oh, and just in case you caught it, that was the book that the "college level question" was in reference too!)

But I also was kind of nervous about the description of Inuyasha painting. I don't want it to sound stupid or anything, even though it's just finger painting. Just FYI, I don't know a lot about art. I love to look at it, and man, I wish I could draw! (really, _really_ wish I could draw) but I am by no means an expert. I'm just reading about art supplies and stuff on line, lol. So, if, in future chapters I make a mistake, and any of you happen to be artsy-folk, and you catch it, lemme know, okay?

Also, does anyone know what kind of demon Totosai is? I was just thinking he couldn't be human…his eyes are too bulg-y looking, and he's got pointy ears. Just wondering.

Last thing…I'm not familiar with Japanese classes. So you know how "English class" in America isn't really teaching you the language English, it's teaching you literature? That's the class poor Inuyasha's having trouble with….only in the Japanese version. So I'm just calling it Lit & Comp.

I'm pretty sure they don't read the same literature that we do…like Shakespeare is probably not that big of a deal in Japan like it is in the States or in England. I'm not sure, but that's just what my reasoning is (if it can be called reasoning at all lol). But I don't know how to find out what they _do_ read. Like, seriously, what do you type in Google? "Great Japanese books read in Literature class" ? Plus, even if I _did_ know what they read, it'd probably be something in, well…Japanese. Which I don't know. So, if any of the questions or book references seem a little too…western…it's because I'm an uncultured teenager who's stuck reading Heart of Darkness (bleh!). Sorry 'bout that.

Okay, I will now stop talking so that you can review. Thanks!

Oh! Quick quick! Everybody get out a phone! Dun-dun-dun….who can figure out what Inuyasha's number code is?


	6. Brick Wall

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, Rumiko Takahashi does.

Author's Notes:

Yeah, this is gonna be pretty much based off of a basic American English (literature) class. I know, the Japanese probably don't learn about this kind of stuff…I'm not even sure it would even _apply_ to Japanese lit (whatever it may be), as I've been told it's a 'syllabic' language but, hey….No tomo japones! Tomo español! (I don't take Japanese! I take Spanish!) LOL

Okay, I'm done.

**Chapter 6**: Brick Wall

"Anaphora."

"Dunno."

"At least try."

"But I don't know."

"But you should at least _try_."

"…"

"Come on…just one little guess?"

"It's…a scheme of…omission?"

"Wrong."

"I told you I didn't know!"

"It's a scheme of repetition. It's where there's the repetition of the same word or group of words at the beginning of successive clauses."

"I don't get it."

"Okay…if I were to say…um…okay I got it! If I were to say 'You shall pass with flying colors, you shall pass with my help, you shall pass because these tutoring sessions are working.' That would be an example of anaphora, see? Because of the repetition of the words 'you shall pass' at the beginning of each clause. Understand?"

"I guess."

"Alright then, you try."

"I hate Lit with a passion, I hate Lit with all of my soul, I hate Lit completely and utterly."

"Um…"

"It's repetition, ain't it?"

"Yeah…yeah, it is. Um…good job, you got it."

"Keh."

"Okay…next one…what kind of scheme is…epanalepsis?"

"Did you just make that up?"

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Well, then you must be trying to confuse me, because it sounds like a disease."

Kagome bit her lip to stifle a laugh and a groan. She knew her example of anaphora was a lie: This _wasn't_ going well. Not well at all. And it wasn't working. It was their third day of tutoring, and they hadn't gotten past basic rhetorical devices yet. They only had about two weeks until the mid term, and at the rate they were going, Inuyasha would be _lucky_ to maintain his fifty-eight average.

He was stubborn. He was impatient. He was grouchy, mean, spiteful, and nonchalant. She had never met a more infuriating person in all of her life. With this type of person, Kagome would normally be quite short. She'd usually shoot back with her own fiery temper in response, not backing down for a moment, and matching their barbs with her own.

But it was quite difficult for her to be cross with him for too long when she was so unexplainably intrigued by him. Because for all of the spiteful silences, the hard glares, and the not-so-subtle accusations, every so often his eyes would look so mournfully sad to her, that she couldn't help but wonder why. He was such a paradox. Caustic and rude, yet…heartbreakingly somber. He absolutely puzzled her.

It had amazed her that he was such a stickler for time, when he was the one that hadn't seemed to care for the tutoring idea in the _first_ place. She'd gotten held up in her fourth hour class, and consequently, had been late to the school's library, where she and Inuyasha had agreed to meet.

She sighed heavily and looked at the boy across the round table from her. He was staring down at the list of rhetorical devices, his mouth set in a puckered frown, hands propping his head up on the table, yet covered by the long sleeves of his jacket. She'd yet to see any trait of his that would set him apart from the rest of the human population, though she knew that his Lit class did on a regular basis. 'He obviously wants as few people to know as possible,' she pondered. 'He wears that big sweatshirt and hood everyday.' He made sure to keep his hands securely knotted in his sleeves, even when he wrote.

Kagome searched the catalog of rumors that she'd been privy to, mostly through Eri, and couldn't remember hearing anything about his hands being out of the ordinary. But…he obviously had _something_ he wanted to hide… 'Damn this infantile, never-ending curiosity of mine,' she thought dryly.

"Okay…let's try something else. Look at this passage…and underline and label all the rhetorical devices you can find, okay?" she instructed, sliding a sheet of paper towards him, pointing the tip of her pencil at it. "Maybe if you can't define them, you can at least recognize—"

"Kagome!" an excited voice interrupted.

"Quiet in the library!" the stout, indignant librarian reprimanded, quite loudly herself. The girl in question quickly quieted, giggling to the other who followed with her. The duo weaved their way from a table near the entrance to the table where she sat.

"Hey, Harumi, Rei. What's up?" she greeted the two. They weren't exactly close friends of hers, but she'd known them through several school functions and extracurricular activities, and they were decent girls. 'Always in the library, aren't you girls?' Kagome thought with a smile.

"Just getting some books for Takeda's class. He's got this big research paper going. Anyway, Kagome, we didn't see you at the last photo meeting. What's up with that?" Rei asked, pouting playfully.

"Oh, yeah…I had this big family thing I needed to take care of, plus I had to help out at the shrine. No big deal. I just couldn't go. I'll be there next week, though, I promise."

"You'd better be! We need your input for that project, since it's _your_ brain-child," Rei said.

"Count on it. I won't miss it, okay?"

"Well, just remember, the next meeting is on the last day of school before Winter Break, okay? Tomo can't meet next week, 'cause he's got an orthodontist appointment. So he moved it," Rei reminded her.

"Yeah, I won't forget. I promise."

"Sure, sure…but _my_ question is, what are _you_ doing in the library? We never see you in here!" Harumi questioned, giving her a sly look.

"I'm tutoring. Hey, girls, this is Inuyasha. He's new here, so—"

"Wait…you're tutoring _him_?" Harumi asked, pointing quite rudely at the boy who'd yet to say a word. Kagome frowned.

"Yeah, I'm helping him in—"

"He's got Akuran's class, right?"

"Um…yeah…but, you know, he's right there, you can ask him." Harumi and Rei exchanged worried looks. Harumi tilted her head her head and pretended to scratch her ear in a way that Inuyasha couldn't see her mouth, as if she thought that action would make her words any less audible.

"You, um…you _do_ know what you're doing, right?" she murmured in a low voice, giving Kagome a pointed look.

"What are you talking about?"

"Kagome…" Rei started, shifting nervous eyes over to the other side of the table. "He's…_you_ know…" she said leadingly, her eyes widening suggestively. Kagome's frown deepened and her mouth set in a hard line.

"I think I understand completely—"

"No, I don't think you do," Harumi said seriously. She gave Inuyasha a brief, condescending look. "I don't think you understand the magnitude of what you're doing." She leaned closer to the girl. "He's the half-breed, Kagome. You know! You've heard—"

"Enough. I've heard enough," she said in a voice that booked no room for argument. "Rei, Harumi. It was very nice talking to you. But, if you don't mind, Inuyasha and I have some studying to do, so goodbye," she said tightly. The two girls shot each other worried looks, and with one last ogle at Inuyasha, they shuffled meekly away. Kagome watched them go, feeling slightly detached.

"Sorry about that…" she said weakly. What could she say? What else could she possibly say? This was the second time something embarrassing like that had happened while she was in his company; the second time someone she associated with had badmouthed him _in front_ of him. 'What does that say about _me_?' she wondered. Inuyasha said nothing for quite some time, his head bent down over his papers so that Kagome couldn't see his face.

"Friends of yours?" he asked evenly.

"Yeah…no…well…kind of. They're in Photo Club with me," she explained.

"Well, if you wanna keep them as 'kind of' your friends, you'd better move away from this table," he warned darkly.

"They're not really _friends_. They're more like…close acquaintances, I guess."

"Whatever. They ain't _gonna_ be shit to you if you keep this up," he snapped.

"Why?"

"Are you absolutely dense?" he asked, finally looking at her. He shook his head, and smirked nastily, as if he suddenly understood her. "Ah! There you go again…that little 'innocent' act. Touché. Well done," he sneered.

"You are so confusing," Kagome mumbled, rubbing her temples. "Honestly, Inuyasha…I'm not pulling anything here. I don't know how to convince you of that…"

"Hope your stupid little prank is worth losing all your friends over," he muttered. "Unless they're all in on it anyway and they're just playing the part of…Never mind. Whatever."

"Yeah, whatever," she shot back lamely. With a heavy sigh she leaned absently fingered the tiny camera charm on her bracelet, twisting it back and forth. "Do you want to try and cover something else? Maybe…literary terms or essay construction? We can do whatever you want. Whatever you think you need to work on most," she said timidly. He shrugged.

"I don't care."

"Well, maybe that's half the problem. You _need_ to care. You have to care to pass," Kagome said exasperatedly.

"Whatever. Don't matter to me. Whatever's easiest for you to teach," he muttered.

"Okay then," she said absently, her eyes scanning her pages of notes. She could feel his eyes on her, studying her with a breathtaking intensity. He did that from time to time. He'd stare unrelentingly at her, not saying a word, not even moving much, just openly staring. It was quite nerve-wracking, with those intensely bright golden eyes, and Kagome couldn't focus on the task at hand. "What?" she finally snapped, looking to meet his gaze.

"Nothing!" he snapped back with a frown, defensive. She turned back to her notes, but could still feel his eyes on her. She followed his line of sight to where her fingers laid against her bracelet.

"My dad gave it to me," she offered her quiet explanation. He gave her an inquisitive look, and then glanced back down at the silver links, lips pursed slightly.

"He dead?" he asked suddenly. Kagome gasped at the abrupt, stark bluntness of the question.

"Um…y-yes…he-he passed," she said, flustered at his stark bluntness, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks. 'How can he ask that so…carelessly?' she wondered. No, carelessly wasn't the word. He didn't sound careless…just…graceless. Her heart thundered inexorably in her chest, as it always did when her father was the topic of discussion. "H-how did you know?"

"The way you talked," he explained with a small shrug. He hadn't taken his eyes off her wrist, and Kagome shifted uncomfortably. 'Kami, doesn't he know it's rude to stare?' she thought. "And you keep playin' with that thing," he added.

"Mm," she murmured her understanding.

"You miss him?" he asked, just as abruptly as before. Again, Kagome was shocked at the questions he was asking; such personal and intimate questions. She could have quite easily told him to butt out, to mind his own business, to shove off. But…there was a look in his eyes that she couldn't quite decipher. Kagome thought herself fairly adept at reading people, at reading faces. She could usually deduce the mood a person was in with a fair amount of accuracy. But she couldn't quite put her finger on the expression in those intense eyes; whether it was remembrance, wistfulness, or something akin to nostalgia, she couldn't say, but whatever it was, it compelled her to answer.

"Yeah. Yeah, I miss him a lot," she said softly. His nostrils flared ever so slightly, and his eyes narrowed, studying her.

"Every day?" Kagome frowned a bit. That was an odd question. At this point in a typical 'condolence conversation', the person would just say "Oh, man, I'm so sorry for your loss," and quickly change topic. No one had ever asked her if she missed her father everyday. Perhaps she misunderstood.

"Huh?"

"I said, do you miss him every day?" he repeated, still murmuring in a low voice. Kagome's frown deepened and she wetted her lips tentatively.

"Well…I mean, I do miss him. I don't think about him _every_ day, but…I do think about him often. Man, it's been…what…four years now? Yeah. He died when I was thirteen," she elaborated quietly, knowing that it was only the raw, open look that she'd never in his eyes before beckoning her to continue. "It was very difficult for my family and I."

"Killed?" he questioned, and then pressed his lips together tightly, as if he hadn't meant to ask that question. He quickly averted his eyes, then glanced guiltily back at her. She stared at him, taken aback by his question.

"Um…no…he—he wasn't killed. He got sick. Lupus," she explained.

"Oh."

"Why do you ask?" she pressed, her brows drawn up.

"No reason."

"There's got to be some reason…nobody just asks a question like that for no reason at all."

"Let's just study, alright?" he said exasperatedly with a tired frown. At Kagome's bewildered expression, his face softened a bit. "I need to pass, remember?" he added. She nodded slowly, still at a loss for his strange behavior.

"Yeah…yeah, okay," she relented reluctantly. She wasn't going to get anything else out of this stubborn boy. He'd promptly sealed up whatever small opening he'd so briefly allowed to lay bare. It couldn't be helped. "So. Epanalepsis is…?"

* * *

Inuyasha cursed his runaway mouth. 'It's really none of your fucking business,' he told himself. 'You just had to go and practically _bury_ your fucking nose in her personal life. You jackass,' he berated himself.

He hadn't been able to take his eyes away from her bracelet, though. The silvery, delicate piece of jewelry kept catching the light overhead and flashing in the corner of his vision. Not to mention…the Lit was thoroughly boring, and any distraction from the material was a welcome one. She'd reached down to rub one of the five charms, a habit he noticed she had. In that one tutoring session, she'd rubbed at one of those charms seven times, mostly when she was thinking about how to pose a question to him.

The tiny charms clinked together quite often, and the soft sound reached his ears, and for some reason he couldn't understand, it wouldn't leave him be. He kept staring at the damn bracelet, until finally she'd snapped at him for staring.

The questions that had spilled forth…well. He couldn't stop himself. The way she had said that it was a gift from her father…that tone. He knew that tone. The one full of lilting regret, sadness and fondness. He knew that scent as well…the one that dampened the smell of a person ever so slightly—the scent of sorrow.

She'd lost someone too. Someone close to her. He didn't know why he cared. It wasn't as though she was the first person to have ever lost someone. She wouldn't be the last. He couldn't find an acceptable reason, even for himself, why the fact that she'd lost her father mattered to him in the least. Why it had sparked the desire in him to ask her a barrage of personal questions, he could not say. Whether it was a feeling that he'd found a kindred spirit in the girl, or that he could simply sympathize with her having lost a parent at a young age as well, he wasn't sure.

All he knew was that for a brief moment, he felt as though he'd found a kindred spirit in the girl, only for a moment. After all…he'd really been rather nosy. He'd asked things that were absolutely none of his business, and she'd answered most graciously. 'Wonder why she did that,' he pondered absently.

So, perhaps he felt a little gratitude to her for that, for indulging his curiosity.

But he'd still hold her at an arms distance.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Okay, so here's the deal. I'm going to camp for four weeks. So, it's gonna be really hard for me to update. I mean, I'll have my laptop, so I'll still be able to write, I just might not get the opportunity to update, because we're not even supposed to have our own computers, much less be on the internet. But if I can, I'll try to sneak (hehehe).

Sorry if this isn't my best chapter…I feel like it's rushed. I'll make sure the next chapter is extra um…extra-better… But I really wanted to get this Author's Note out to you guys, so people wouldn't think I'd fell off the face of the planet if there wasn't an update for that long. Yeah, so I know this chapter kind of sucks, and it kind of sucks. But I'll make it up to you guys. Where I am right now (relatives' houses) I'm not getting a lot of privacy or quiet, something I require for writing. So I'm a bit scatter-brained right now.

So, maybe I won't be able to update, but just think: if I can sneak away and write, then when I get back, I'll have like four or five chapters at one time! (maybe—if I'm really sneaky…) that'd be nice, wouldn't it?

Wowzer313 3


	7. Peak

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, Rumiko Takahashi does.

Author's Notes:

Um…for once, I have no notes. At least right now. Except for this one, to say that I have none. Man…I just feel wrong having nothing to say, except that I have nothing to say. I dunno, just feels like I gotta fill up some space and say _something_ before you start the chapter. So…something. LOL

Okay I'm a dork.

Read it and weep.

**Chapter 7**: Peak

Kagome hurried to turn in her Biology final, which she was sure she'd aced, and quickly exited the classroom as soon as the final bell had rung. She smiled and breathed a happy sigh. Winter Break was finally here. She wanted to stop and ask Inuyasha how he felt he'd done, but when she left, he was still hunched over his test, scribbling furiously. She hoped sincerely that he'd done okay on his Lit test. After his bizarre…inquisition… on that third day, he'd seemed to be much more receptive to her efforts, and she felt, he'd improved by leaps and bounds. How that would translate into a test, however, she couldn't be sure.

She would have waited outside the door for him, but she had to run to the print shop and pick up the prints that Photo Club had taken of the faculty—she'd been designated 'gofer'—so that they could be hung before break, and try to make it back on campus in time for the actual _meeting_, the last one of the calendar year. She hadn't bothered to wait for Eri—the girl had been alarmingly distant lately.

Opting not to try and muddle through the mad flow of traffic in the Daisuke students' hurry to get on with Winter Break, Kagome scuttled through the snow to the small print shop that was just down the block from the school. She flashed the red card that would have her recognized as the official runner for Photo Club, and was promptly bombarded with the nine cardboard tubes that held the portraits of the main faculty.

Juggling the tubes, her schoolbag, her camera bag, and the plastic bag full of film and canisters that she'd been surprised to find the president of the club had ordered as well, Kagome was beginning to wish she'd went through the hassle of bringing her car.

She fumbled at length with the door, frowning as several students passed her without so much as a helping hand, even having the nerve to stare at her directly.

"Thanks a lot," she mumbled sarcastically as she finally managed to get a handle on the door and awkwardly flung it open with a little grunt. 'Some people have no sense of common courtesy,' she thought as she hurried down the hallways. Finally arriving at the proper classroom, she fumbled with the handle once again, wondering why in the world no one would offer her any type of assistance.

"Okay, guys, sorry I'm late, but I got all the prints! Got 'em all safe and sound with no dents or anything! No thanks to any—" She stopped short. Everyone's eyes were on her, an unusual occurrence by itself, as the photo lab was usually bustling with activity, what with everyone busy with the impending projects and whatnot. There were no pictures clipped on the line for Mr. Takagami's approval, which meant there was probably not anyone developing pictures in the dark room, which was odd, because Kagome was positive that they had rolls and rolls of film that needed to be developed. Her committee wasn't even gathered in their usual spot by the window, as she was _certain_ she'd told them to be for every meeting

Everyone was seated in the chairs at the tables, watching her. She tightened her grip on the precious tubes, the door bumping her rear as it swung shut.

"Alright…what's going on?" she asked with a nervous laugh. Were they playing a prank on her? Tomo, the president of the club, stepped forward, his face solemn.

"Kagome? We should talk," he said seriously. She frowned. She did _not_ like that tone of voice.

"Why? About what?"

"Listen…the club…and this is the _club_ as a _whole_…we're deciding to go in a different direction—"

"What's _that_ supposed to mean?" she snapped. This beating around the bush was starting to annoy her. "Just spit it out, Tomo."

"Well…you know the importance of publicity…" he began, seeming to be choosing his words carefully. "And, as president, well…it's my job to make sure the club looks good right?" She didn't respond. "Right. Well…some of the members of the club feel as though maybe you're…contributions…aren't really all that necessary to the club any longer, and so—"

"Wait, wait, wait," Kagome said quickly, shaking her head. "You're _kicking_ me _out_ of the _club_?" she near shouted.

"Kagome, we feel as though it's in the best interest—"

"Of _who_?"

"Of the club, and we're only—"

"So you _are_ kicking me out?" she yelled, absolutely flummoxed. "Are you even allowed to _do_ that?"

"We aren't 'kicking you out', quote unquote," Tomo said patronizingly, bending his fingers in air quotes. "We are…strongly suggesting that you perhaps find another way in which to occupy your time after school…"

"Why?" she demanded.

"Why?" he echoed.

"Yes. I want to know why. This…this makes no sense, Tomo! You can't just up and kick people out of clubs!"

"Like I said Kagome…you…you know the importance of publicity and appearances…in Photo Club especially. Appearance is everything," he said leadingly. She stared hard at him.

"So…you're saying that I'm making the club look bad," she stated, trying to follow his seemingly skewed logic.

"More or less—"

"And just _how_ am I doing that?" she asked. It was at this point that Tomo seemed to lose his cool, calm demeanor, and began to look quite uneasy. "How, Tomo? The rest of you? How? What have I done, hm?" her voice escalating. She was mad enough to break something, and her hands gripped the tubes still cradled in her arms tightly.

"Kagome, you've brought this on yourself," Harumi said sadly from her chair. Kagome frowned at her, confused.

"Harumi, what are you _talking_ about?"

"The people that you choose to…associate with….perhaps they aren't the most savory characters to be around—" Tomo began.

"Wait…" Kagome said quietly. "So you're telling me…you're telling me that this whole thing is…it's about Inuyasha?" she asked in a small voice.

"He's not exactly prime company, Kagome, and you've been around him quite a bit lately."

"Even after a lot of warnings," Rei added somberly. Kagome's face broke into an incredulous smile, her brow wrinkling.

"You guys are getting this worked up over me tutoring _one guy_?" she exclaimed.

"A half breed!" a kid spouted from the back of the room.

"But, he's—"

"You've been gallivanting around with him since he first got here," said another, someone she didn't know.

"Gallivanting? I was _tutoring_ him!"

"Is _that_ what they call it nowadays?" snickered a boy to her far left. Kagome's jaw dropped at the insinuation. Her breathing began to quicken. 'This cannot be happening,' she thought faintly.

"No…I was only…" she started weakly.

"I'm sorry, Kagome…this was a club decision…" Tomo offered.

"Tomo…please…what about my project? What about that?" she implored. That project…it was her baby. The club had needed a service project and a fundraiser at the same time. And so, Kagome conceived Pics for Plates, a project that would help both needs. The members would, during the second semester, offer students and those in the nearby community the opportunity to have their own personalized portraits, complete with all types of special effects added with photoshop technology and the help of the Digital Arts classes and sell them. Half of the proceeds would be donated to the local soup kitchen, while the other half would go towards the club's bank account.

She'd planned every part of it, worked the budget and set prices, and though she wasn't president of the club, she'd been made committee head for the project. Didn't that count for anything? They couldn't kick her out and scrap the entire project—they were already invested in it!

"We, um…we've decided to make Akio the new committee head…since he was helping you and everything…we figured he was the best choice…" Tomo said uncomfortably shifting his weight from foot to foot. Kagome's gaze fell on the boy in question, who was giving her a smug look, his lips turned up into a slight smile. Her temper flared again at that look.

"Well, I don't know how you're going to do that. This project was _my _idea. I've got all the plans. I've got the price sheet and all the practice proofs, so if you're going to let him take over, he's gonna need to start from scratch," she said spitefully, jaw set. Tomo gave her a disparaging look.

"Kagome…I never thought you'd do something so spiteful—"

"And I never thought you'd be such a coward! Such a weak, spineless coward, Tomo!" she cried. His face hardened, turned stony. "I've known you since we were kids, Tomo! How could you do something like this to me, huh? Our _parents_ are _friends_, you jerk! And all this! For what?"

"Kagome. Don't be like that. Like you said, this project was your idea. If you don't want to see it fail, then you need to hand the information over," he told her. She glared at him defiantly. "Don't be stupid, Kagome. Don't let the club suffer because you decided to be selfish."

"If the club suffers it was because the _club_ was prejudiced!"

"Against that monster!" Harumi exclaimed. "Let it _go_, Kagome! He's not even that important! He's just a half-breed, he doesn't matter!"

"I can't believe you'd be so callous! You kick me out because I was—"

"Yeah, yeah, we know, 'tutoring'," that same boy laughed, twisting tutoring, and using the infamous air quotes. "Tell me, just how long have you been slutting around with half-breeds? Is this something you do often, or is it a new thing you're trying?" he smirked. The entire room went silent. Kagome could feel that insistent prickling in the backs of her eyeballs, the tightening of her chest and the constricting of her throat, all signs that a full-fledged sob-fest was imminent. 'Don't you dare,' she told herself. 'Don't you _dare_ cry in front of them! These assholes! Don't you _dare_ give them that satisfaction!' she screamed mentally.

"I can't believe you'd condone something like this," she said to Mr. Takagami, trying to stem the slight waver in her voice. The club's sponsor simply clasped his hands together and averted his eyes. "Is this the type of educator you are? The type to just let students say things like that to one another? About one another? You'd just let people spew whatever prejudiced bullshit that comes to mind?" she pressed, voice rising with every question. The squat man stood and straightened his tie.

"That's quite enough, young lady," he said sternly. "Now, you knew what you were getting yourself into, going around associating with that half-breed. Don't make things worse for yourself. Try to handle yourself with some poise, and leave graciously."

What could she do? It was her against the system; the unchanging, unforgiving, unrelenting system. And she felt so small. Stiffly, robotically, Kagome set down the nine tubes and the bag of film she'd still been awkwardly holding in her arms onto the table. With shaky hands, she opened her messenger bag and pulled out a purple file folder, neatly marked "Pics for Plates", and set it down carefully next to the tubes. Closing the flap to her bag, she straightened, licked her lips and turned to leave the classroom without another word.

The door clicked shut and the sound echoed through the empty hallway, reverberating in Kagome's ears as she made her brisk exit from the school building in quick, measured steps. Fingers clutched the strap of her camera bag tightly with white knuckles, and she held her bottom lip quite firmly between her teeth. Sniffling at the burst of cool air that greeted her, she made her way across the vast, now empty student parking lot.

Optimally, she would wait until she got to her room. But she could feel the pressure building behind her eyes and in her sinuses, and she knew that she would probably be unable to hold in the barrage that threatened to break loose any longer than the time it took to get to her car. So she would do it there.

Stepping around a patch of black ice in the space next to her, Kagome slipped her keys out of her purse, and prepared to unlock the door.

Her hand was promptly stilled as the sight of the door registered fully in her mind.

'Demon's Whore'

The words knocked around her skull. The letters were large, perhaps as tall as a length and a half of her hand, scratchy, irregular, jagged. Small curlicues of green paint hung off the tips of the letters, the silvery metal shining in the gouges. It was scratched into the windshield as well.

She dropped her bag, ignoring it when the fan of notebooks and folders slipped out of the top. She pressed her back against the offending message, sliding down the car's surface to land on the cold ground. Her head was absolutely throbbing, and the pressure was bordering on painful.

How had this happened? How had she gone so quickly from an average high school student with a fair amount of friends and respect to…to…a whore?

She knew that people were thinking she was crazy; crazy to be hanging out with him. She knew people thought it was weird that she'd want to be around him. But she never thought that people would degrade her because of it. She never thought she'd be stripped of her rank in Photo Club because of it. She never thought she'd be a victim of _vandalism_ because of it.

She trembled. Was this why Eri wasn't talking to her? She'd thought it was because the girl's feelings were still bruised from Kagome's comment about her having been a new student. Was this why her discussion group in IB Lit had been strangely avoidant of her answers and contributions lately? Was this why that boy in History made that lewd gesture to her last week?

Suddenly floods of instances that had occurred over the past few weeks poured into her mind with a torrential force. Strange looks in the hallways, people suddenly falling silent when she came forward, teachers giving her disapproving glares, the girl in the front office who'd laughed, seemingly pointlessly, at her, the boy near the restrooms who'd asked her if she'd do 'favors' for anyone.

And with the overwhelming influx of realizations, Kagome gave into the sobs that violently tore at her throat.

* * *

"Fuck, yeah," Inuyasha muttered with a small smile. He'd waited around after he'd finished his Biology final just for Mr. Akuran to input the grades into the computer. Then, instead of simply showing him on his computer or telling the boy his grade, he made him go all the way to the school's library across campus to ask the librarian for a copy of his grade report. Inuyasha reread the paper that he held, turning away from the printer. 'Final Grade: 60.2' it read. It wasn't a great grade, but it wasn't failing, and for that, he was grateful.

He had to admit, the girl's tutoring sessions had helped tremendously. He couldn't have gotten the 2.2 percent increase he needed without her help, and he knew it, but he'd _never_ admit it. He'd thanked her on their last session of course, but when he saw her again second semester, he'd be damned if he was going to kiss ass.

"Take that, Akuran, you fucking asshole," he said lightly. He actually had a slight bounce in his step. No school for two whole weeks. No Mr. Akuran and his stupid Lit class for two whole weeks. No hearing barbs and taunts from stupid students for two _whole_ weeks. His father would undoubtedly want him out of the house, undoubtedly so that he could entertain a few random demonesses; Inuyasha would be able to pretty much do as he pleased. He was sure that he'd be able to spend tons of time at his flat, and that thought alone lifted his spirits.

Relatively happy thoughts in mind, Inuyasha shoved the grade report into his pocket and pushed the library doors open, inhaling deeply. Actually feeling in a halfway decent mood for once, Inuyasha pushed the hood off of his head and pulled the cloth strip away, tucking that into the pocket on his sweatshirt. He twitched and swiveled his ears, allowing them a moment of extraordinarily rare freedom in the deserted public.

He was just crossing the walk way when a peculiar sound caught his attention. He wanted to ignore it, hoped to ignore it. But when the tang of salt wafted by his nose, he groaned heavily, rolling his eyes. He knew he couldn't simply walk by without at least _seeing_ what was causing that accursed smell. He followed the path he was on that led to the student parking lot, seeing that there were only a handful of cars left. Following his nose, and cringing as the dreadful sounds got louder, he ended up at an awfully familiar car.

His eyebrows rose considerably as he saw the damage that had been done to the tiny vehicle. 'Demon's Whore' and 'Slut' were jaggedly carved into the shamrock-green paint of the car, into the windshield.

"Kami," he murmured. Someone had truly done a number on the little green Bug.

That was when it hit him.

_She _couldn't have done that…could she? _Would _she? Up until this point, he'd been convinced that she had something up her sleeve, and was simply waiting for the right moment to spring her trap on him. Surely she was going to give up the game any day now. So he'd kept his distance, except for slipping that one time in the library, and he felt fairly certain that she had no information to blackmail, humiliate, or incriminate him with. She wouldn't be able to pull any stupid teen-girl pranks on him.

But this…this was a bit far for a mind game…wasn't it? Would she have really gone so far with a prank as to key such a message into her own car? Just to fool him into trusting her so that she could pump him for information, and then humiliate him publicly? She didn't strike him as the rich type. Sure, her clothes were fairly nice, but she didn't seem to be abounding with money, so much so that she could afford to scratch up a car for something as stupid and insignificant as a prank…

The hair-raising sound of sobs reclaimed his attention and he flattened his ears. Groaning again Inuyasha tugged the hood back over his head, not bothering with the cloth strip, and walked cautiously around the front of the car.

His stomach churned. He already knew who it was. But upon the sight of his tutor huddled into a quivering, sobbing ball against the driver's side door of her car, legs pulled to her chest, face buried in her arms that made a little nest atop her knees, he felt sick. He'd never been one to handle crying women well. Anybody crying, for that matter. It made him uneasy, skittish, and the smell of tears actually made him feel a bit nauseated. Her shoulders shook with each sob that violently wracked her frame. Her chamois-colored messenger bag lay beside her, its contents haphazardly strewn on the ground. Inuyasha cringed. She needed to stop. Now.

"H-hey…" he started hesitantly. Her head quickly whipped up, and she looked at him through bright brown eyes shiny with blurry tears. She sniffled, and the finicky scent of embarrassment crept into her scent as her face darkened into a dusty pink blush. Inuyasha felt his throat constrict. "Cut it out," he mumbled looking down at her. She straightened her posture, her pearlescent coat skidding against the car door, and scrubbed her cheeks with her fists, sniffing and sighing.

"Kami, this is embarrassing," she muttered with a self-conscious laugh. She tried to keep up the weak smile, but soon succumbed to another bout of tears, at which point Inuyasha paled. "I never…I could have never imagined…"

"Look…just…just quit it, alright?"

"They…they kicked me out of Photo Club," she whimpered, ignoring his demands that she stop crying. "They all just…kicked me out. Akio…_He's_ taking over _my_ committee…he's taking over _my_ idea…" Her face crumpled and she buried her face in the crook of her arm again. Inuysha sighed heavily, uncomfortably. She wasn't gonna be done anytime soon. He didn't know why, but he sat down beside her, leaning up against the car's front tire. Tilting his head, he took a discreet sniff at her. The tang of sour sweat, usually a sure-fire way to detect a lie, didn't pollute her scent. Her scent wasn't cloudy or clogged, as a liar's usually was. He decided, that although he was still hesitant…she was coming from a genuine place…and there was no mistaking, faking or half-assing those tears and sobs that kept spouting from her. There was no _way _those were fake.

Which meant…she really _was _alienated. She really _had _lost all of her friends, and she really _was _the victim of the abuse that he endured daily. He cringed. 'This is all my fault,' he thought guiltily.

He'd heard it. The things people said about her. He'd heard barbs tossed around, mixed in with the regular taunts about him. But he hadn't stopped them. He hadn't raised a voice to defend her. At the time, he was still in the mindset that she was out to get him. Now, he truly regretted not saying anything, but knowing that the outcome would have been the same whether he'd stepped in or not; perhaps it would have even been worse. What would people say if the _half-breed _was defending her honor? Why, that was just as bad as having no honor at all. And of course, people would run with that notion.

"I just…Kami…I never thought it would be like this…you know? I mean, there are people saying such…such _awful_ things. People I've known since I was in diapers…" she sobbed, her voice hitched. She wiped a woolen gloved hand across her face. "I mean…Tomo. I've known him since I was three years old. We've gone to the same schools for I don't know how long—and even he…even _he's_ saying things. Doing things…" she trailed off, shaking her head miserably.

"That's the nature of the beast," Inuyasha told her aloofly. She gave him a mournful, heart wrenching look, and he felt like an asshole for saying that. But…he _had_ warned her…

"But…I was only _tutoring_ you…only _talking_ to you…how could they be so angry…so _horrible_ for only _talking_? To one person?" she asked hopelessly.

"It's the person you're talking _to_ that counts," he reminded her quietly. She shrugged and her brow wrinkled in confusion.

"But…you haven't _done_ anything…I mean, they're so…angry over me talking to someone innocent that they'd say things like that…Demon's whore…" she said, her voice in a trance-like tone.

"And 'slut'," he added before he could stop himself. He hadn't _meant _to say that…She gave him a shocked, almost blank look.

"Slut?" she echoed emptily.

"…It's on the passenger's side," he muttered ashamedly. She took in a deep, shaky breath, nodding slowly.

"Where do they even get that from?" Inuyasha shrugged needlessly. He blushed a bit at the thought. 'Demon's Whore'. He was obviously the demon in question, and she, was obviously the whore in question. That being said…people thought—or simply said pointlessly—that they were having…His face reddened. "I could feel it," she added after a long quiet moment.

"Hm?"

"I could feel it…this tangible energy or tension in the air…I felt it for a couple of weeks, but…I don't know. I guess I just shrugged it off—ignored it," she said. The corners of her mouth jerked downward and tears splashed down her cheeks again. This time, their flow was not stemmed. Inuyasha fidgeted restlessly.

"Look…if you wanna…yell, or whatever…if you wanna scream at me, you can go ahead," he offered awkwardly. She frowned at him through her tears.

"Why would I want to do that?" she questioned. He shrugged.

"It's all my fault that nobody likes you anymore," he explained, wincing when her frown deepened. He probably could have been a bit more tactful saying that…well. He was truly lacking in social graces. "So, you know, I understand if you just wanna yell my ear off. Cuss, scream, do whatever. You might…you know. Feel better, or whatever," he muttered.

"It wouldn't make me feel better to scream at you," she said softly, her breathing hitched and ragged. He shrugged.

"Suit yourself."

"It's not your fault anyway," she said sullenly. He looked at her strangely, surprised when she gave a timid smile. "I didn't _have_ to talk to you," she explained. Well. She was right about that. She didn't _have_ to. And he'd even _warned_ her, even though he thought she was playing jokes. 'Why do I still feel bad, then?' he asked himself.

"Yeah, but…you're pretty stupid, so…I'm still kinda responsible," he said. She chuckled a bit, and Inuyasha breathed a sigh of relief, thinking perhaps she was done crying. Wrong. The chuckle turned into another choked sob, and she leaned her chin on her knees. His stomach was turning flips.

"This is how it is for you? Like this everyday?" she asked, looking up at him. The vulnerable, pleading look in her eyes compelled him to nod, and so he did. She bit her lip, looking listlessly across the parking lot. "I had no idea…I knew you got some crap…but…I can't even imagine…"

"Yeah, well…you live and you learn," he said dully. "Pretty soon it's just noise." She shivered.

"I don't think I could ever get _used_ to that," she admitted. He shrugged again. "I don't know what I'm going to do," she said in a small voice.

" 'Bout what?"

"About school…seems like I don't have any friends anymore," she said, biting her lip, the tears overwhelming her again. "At least I've got you, right?" she asked hopefully, tears pooling in her eyes. 'Why the hell do you have to go and do _that_, you stupid girl?' he thought, looking at her in horror. She was looking straight at him, crying, asking him a question like that. 'Damn her!'

"What the hell do you mean by _that_?"

"Well…It's not like I've got anybody else. And you don't have anybody else—"

"I don't _need_ anybody else," he snapped.

"But…I mean…it's kind of a kindred spirit thing now, right? We're both alone. It wouldn't be so bad if we hung out…would it?" Inuyasha sighed.

"I think the farther away you are from the freak, the better."

"Huh?"

"The less you're seen around me, the better off you'll be. Think about it. If you go into school next semester, and you act like you've got your wits about you—you act like you've got some sense—then maybe you can get all your old friends back. Get back into your club again," he explained. 'And then I can stop feeling so damned guilty,' he added silently. He began to fidget again as wave after wave of salty scent assaulted his nose. 'Stop fucking _crying_!' he screamed at her mentally. He knew better than to yell aloud. That would only make things worse. His fidgeting was brought to an abrupt halt when she placed a warm hand on his knee.

"Inuyasha. If they stopped being my friends because I chose to befriend someone else, then I don't think they were really friends to begin with," she said sadly through her tears and hitched voice. "If our friendship is so fickle that its status changes depending on who I choose to associate with…it's not a real friendship." Inuyasha could only stare at her as she said that. He wanted to shake her hand off of his knee, wanted to slap her away, tell her to stop being so stupid. But that sorrowful, miserable look in her brown eyes stopped any standoffish behavior he was considering.

"Keh. Whatever. If I were you though, I'd hightail it while I can. While you've still got some salvageable reputation. People aren't gonna feel sorry for you if you keep surrounding yourself with freaks and monsters. That's just the way it goes," he muttered coldly. His butt was beginning to go numb from the hard concrete. He could feel her eyes staring a hole into the side of his face.

"I sometimes wonder if you really think that way. About yourself. I sometimes wonder if that's what _you_ really think, or if it's just the things you hear from others that you're spitting back," she pondered quietly.

"I sometimes wonder why you give a shit," he retorted. She giggled through her residual tears and patted his knee once.

"You're so grumpy. All the time."

"Well…maybe if you stopped snifflin' and snottin' all over the place I wouldn't be so damn grumpy _now_," he grouched. "So quit it, alright? Cryin' doesn't solve shit," he told her. She laughed fully now, even if it was a bit choked.

"Yeah, you're right. But it does feel good sometimes, though, yeah?"

"Keh." She exhaled deeply and leaned her head against the car.

"Hey…" she started.

"What now?"

"Your ears…are they cute?" she asked. Inuyasha froze. Where had _that_ come from? How was he supposed to answer? He tried his luck.

"What the hell kind of question is that?" he growled.

"I'm only curious," she said. "I haven't seen them."

"And it'll stay that way," he said with finality, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Aw…why?" she pouted.

"Why would you _want_ to—"

"I bet they're cu-ute," she said in a sing-song voice, looking at him out of the corner of her eye.

"You're deranged."

"Aw, come on. Lemme see," she implored.

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"It'd make me feel better."

"Keh! Like I care about making _you_ feel better," he said callously. She gave him a knowing look, raising an eyebrow.

"I'll start crying again," she warned. He blanched.

"Are you serious?" She nodded solemnly.

"I can start at the drop of a dime," she told him seriously. He sighed, scowling and cursing silently.

"Fine," he bit out. "But no more crying, you hear? I don't wanna hear a peep outta you!" he said firmly. She nodded happily, and scooted around to face him directly. "Stupid squealy girl…making a fucking _show_ outta me…fucking tears," he muttered absently. Quickly, he swiped a hand over the crown of his head, brushing back the hood. He stared intently down at his knees, hating the hot blush that spread across his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. He chewed the inside of his lips, which had set into a hard, thin line. "Great, so now that you've seen the freak's ears, what are you gonna—"

"They're so cute!" she exclaimed, clasping her hands together enthusiastically. His eyes flew wide.

"_What_?"

"Oh, Inuyasha, they're so cu—"

"You're chemically unbalanced!" he exclaimed, the pure shock evident on his face. It was as if things started moving in slow motion. His eyes drifted downward to stare at her hands as they lifted towards his head. "Hey! Uh-uh! No touching! No way!" he exclaimed, pushing her hands roughly away. She bit her lip.

"Oh…sorry, I didn't—"

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he continued to rant.

"I said I was sorr—"

"Kami, what are you, _crazy_?" he exclaimed, starting to tug the hood back up. Kagome stopped him.

"No, you don't have to do that…I said I was sorry," she murmured quietly. She glanced back up at him.

"Keh." He glanced down at her, rolled his eyes. He pulled his crumpled grade report out of his pocket and tossed it over to her, the slip landing in her lap.

"Hm? What's this?" she asked, unfolding the rumpled wad. 'Inuyasha Chikamatsu…blah, blah, blah, home phone number, address, ID number…blah blah blah…First Semester Grade Report…' she scanned the paper. "Oh my gosh! Inuyasha! 60.2!" she exclaimed suddenly.

"Yup."

"Oh, wow, Inuyasha this is great! I'm so proud of you!" she said sincerely. "I knew you weren't stupid," she joked, nudging him with her elbow. He snorted.

"Shut up," he groused. "Just thought you ought to know. Since you helped…and whatever," he muttered. "I'm gonna go…" he said, taking the paper back and standing. She followed suit and stood as well.

"Hey," she called after him as he'd started to leave. He paused. "Thank you. You really _did_ make me feel better," she said gratefully, offering him a warm smile. Inuyasha frowned at her, turning back around abruptly.

"Keh," he grunted.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Man, that was a long chapter! 25 pages! Whew!

So…now that the ice is broken (kind of) where will this go? If my transitioning through the future is kind of rough, I apologize…heh heh.

Review and tell me what you think! (and hey, if there's typos, let me know—remember, I'm sneaking and doing this, so I'm typing fast!)

Wowzer313


	8. Time Waster?

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, Rumiko Takahashi does. I don't own Madden either, but do you know how freakin' rich I'd be if I did?

Author's Notes: Okay, so I know I haven't updated in, like, a month. And I guess that's really bad. But, school started, I'm filling out college applications (which is stressful enough) and I will admit, I had writer's block. Majorly. Seriously couldn't think about how to get him over to her house without it being weird.

So maybe what I came up with is STILL kind of weird. Sorry. Really, I am.

**Chapter 8: **Time Waster?

"So…do you wanna come over?" she blurted into the phone. Her fingers gripped the hard plastic of the receiver tightly, knuckles turning white from the strain. She couldn't believe she'd just asked him that. The silence on the other end of the line killed her. Boy, she'd really stepped in it now. He was gonna say no.

How had she gotten the nerve to even ask him something like that in the first place?

Earlier that day, Kagome sat at her usual place at the table, shifting the flavorful blend of noodles and vegetables around her bowl with the tip of her chopsticks. She hadn't been hungry, but her mother had cooked her favorite meal, and she felt obligated to at least push the food around. She gave another deep sigh, propping her chin up in her hand.

"Kagome?" her mother called from across the table. "Is everything okay, Sweetheart?" she asked. Kagome didn't hear the woman, and continued to stare absently into her bowl. "Kagome?"

"Hey, Doofus," her younger brother, Souta, called. Kagome jerked a bit and snapped out of her daze.

"Don't call me a doofus, you moron," she shot back. The boy smiled impishly and shrugged.

"Mom's calling you," he said.

"Kagome, are you alright?" her mother asked again.

"I'm fine, Mom. Why do you ask?"

"You're acting very distant, Sweetie," the woman explained around a cheekful of food. "The phone hasn't rung, you haven't had any friends over, haven't gone out, nothing. Now that's not like my little social butterfly," she said good-naturedly. Kagome shrugged, ducking her head so that her mother couldn't see her eyes. Her mother could always read her like an open book.

"I dunno…everyone's kind of busy this year," she lied. "A lot of people have gone out of town on vacation…things like that."

"Everyone?" her mother questioned.

"Ha, ha! Kagome's got no friends!" her brother taunted. Kagome's heart lurched. She knew Souta was only joking, but…if only he knew how true that was. Well…she had to save face and act as though everything was normal.

"Shut up, you peon. You're only jealous because you're a social leper," she retorted.

"Hey!"

"Okay, you two," their grandfather interceded. "That's enough of that."

"Perhaps you should call someone, Dear. You usually have a friend over to ring in the New Year with. You know Grandpa and I don't mind," her mother reminded with an encouraging smile.

"…you really wouldn't mind?" Kagome asked.

"Of course not, Sweetheart."

"…what if…" Kagome hesitated. "What if it was a boy?" she asked, testing the waters. She waited for the deadpan 'no' to ring out. Instead, her mother raised an eyebrow with a tiny smirk. Kagome quickly raised her hands. "Mom! No, not like that!" she insisted, shaking her head. "It's just that…um…he's new at Daisuke, and he doesn't have any friends, and I've been tutoring him…I figured maybe I could reach out, you know?" she explained quickly. The older woman smiled fondly.

"Well, that's rather sweet of you, Kagome. I don't see why not."

"Then can I be excused? I need to call him and see if he can come over."

"Sure, Dear."

"What about me, Mom? Can I have Jiro over?" Souta asked excitedly.

"Now you know you're on punishment, young man. Do you remember what I said? No friends over for two weeks." The woman's voice booked no room for argument.

"Aw, but Mo-om—"

"No 'buts', Souta. Maybe you'll think the next time you decide to pull the fire alarm at school."

Souta crossed his arms grumpily and pouted while Kagome slipped into the hallway and grabbed the cordless phone. She ran with it all the way up to her room and shut the door, turning the tiny latch to lock it. Sitting at her desk, she prepared the dial the number that somehow had managed to stick in her mind, her right index finger poised a millimeter over the number two.

"Just do it, Kagome," she coached herself. "What's the worst that could happen? Just do it." She punched in the number, pressed the receiver to her ear and waited with baited breath.

In the silence of her room, the thrum of the phone's ringer was the only sound. Once, twice, thrice, four times it rang, and she was just about to press the 'End' button and give up with at the last moment—

"Hullo?" came the hushed greeting. Kagome's mouth opened and closed for a few seconds before she could finally speak.

"Hi!" she burst out, all too enthusiastically.

"Who _is_ this?" he asked, sounding rather annoyed.

"Oh—it's me, Kagome," she answered. The silence that followed seemed to stretch on into eternity, and Kagome winced.

"Ka-K…Kagome?" he stuttered, his voice finally at a normal level. "Wh-what…how—why—"

"You know, most people say it in order: Who, What, When, Where, then why. But, hey, whatever floats your boat," she said breezily, chuckling at her own lame joke. He was still spluttering and hadn't noticed.

"How the _fuck_ did you get this number?" he finally blurted. Kagome grimaced. She could just see his face: slightly red from being flustered, eyes squinting a bit, and dark brows drawn dangerously together. It was that same look that came over his features every time he was thrown for a loop. She was positive he was wearing it now.

"You…um…you gave it to me, remember?" she lied, hoping he'd just go along with it even if he didn't rememb—

"No."

So much for that hope.

"You don't? Oh…well—"

"Seriously, how did you—"

"Okay, okay! Remember when you showed me your grade report?" she began leadingly. He was silent again.

"You remembered my number from looking on my grade report," he stated more than asked. Kagome began to wish his voice would stop being so darned monotone. She was starting to feel like a stalker. "How does that work?"

"Well…I _am_ a photographer…guess it just follows that my memory is photographic too," she mumbled. It was true. She had a knack for remembering things after looking at them only once…which was also why she knew that his father had a different last name than he did, and that his birthday was March 5th. But those were entirely different matters.

"Okay…" he said slowly, and Kagome was unsure whether he believed the bit about her memory or not. "Why…why are you calling me?" he asked bluntly. She bit her lip. 'How to start, how to start?' she thought.

"Well…I was calling to…talk. Chit-chat. Converse with you. Whatever you'd like," she shrugged, settling her chin down into the palm of her hand.

"Um…I'm really not supposed to be on the phone—"

"Oh, bad boy, huh? Breaking all the rules?"

"No, I…I'm just answering it, that's all. I can't talk—I gotta go—"

"Okay, but wait, before you get off," she exclaimed. "I, um…I'd wanted to ask you something."

"What?"

"Um…well…I…I was wondering if you were doing anything tonight. You know, for New Year's."

"No…" he said suspiciously. "What's it to you?"

"Well, my mom said I could have a friend over. To bring in the New Year with, and, well, you know, I was just thinking…maybe if you weren't doing anything…" she trailed off. He said nothing. She waited. He still said nothing. 'How much clearer can I make this invitation?' she thought, frustrated.

"Are you say—"

"So…do you want to come over?" she blurted into the phone. She nervously bit the tip of her pinky, waiting out the long stretch of silence. He was gonna say no. He was gonna say no, and he was gonna sat it bluntly. Her ears picked up the sharp sound of his inhale.

Kagome was shocked by how absolutely shocked _he_ sounded.

"Um…do you want to come over?" she repeated, feeling a bit surer of herself once he didn't reject her invitation from the jump.

"Y-you…you're inviting me…over?" he parroted back, voice faint.

"Yes…" Kagome said slowly.

"…T-t-to your _house_? F-for New Year's?" he clarified.

"Yes. For New Year's. That would be tonight," she said with a giggle. He didn't say anything, and Kagome grew unsure again. "You don't have to if you don't want to," she informed him. "I, um…I just wanted to have a friend over, and I figured you might be game."

"Friend?" he wheezed. Kagome frowned. Was he okay?

"Um, yeah. Are you okay? You sound kind of out of breath."

"Y-y-yeah…I'm f-fine," came his faint reply.

"Oh. O-okay…so, is that a yes? Do you wanna come?" she prodded.

"Uh…I-I…ah-alright," he finally said, weakly. Kagome grinned.

"Okay, great! Do you want me to pick you up?"

"Um…n-no, it's fine."

"Alright-y, then…in that case you can just come over whenever you're ready. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Alright. See you soon," she said.

"Mm-hmn."

Kagome pressed the 'End' button, feeling very satisfied with herself.

* * *

Inuyasha carefully set the phone back into its cradle on the wall, his mouth still hanging slightly ajar, his hands icy and slick with sweat. He'd quickly realized after Kagome had hung up the first time that she'd forgotten to tell him where she lived, or he'd forgotten to ask. He didn't know how to handle these social things, and he didn't know whether the faux pas was his or hers.

He'd stared at the phone, paralyzed, and unsure whether he should fish her number out of the phone's electric directory and ask her for the address, or whether he should wait for her to realize the mistake and call him back. He prayed for her to do the second, and let out a huge sigh of relief when the phone rang once more. He didn't know what he would have done if he'd had to call her and one of her family members had answered. He probably would have passed out. No, he wouldn't have called her back in the first place, and would have forgotten the whole ludicrous notion, had she not called him back so promptly.

Called him back. What a foreign concept. He'd never had anyone 'call him back'. He'd never had anyone call him in the first place, never mind to invite him to do something. 'Oh, Kami,' he thought, dazed, as he trudged up the stairs to his room. 'What the hell did I just agree to?' Once in his room, he ran agitated clawed fingers through his hair, taking deep breaths. 'And _why_ the hell did I just agree to it in the first place?' he asked himself. It was a pointless question.

He'd agreed because as much as he ignored it, as much as he tried to be nonchalant about it, as much as he hated to admit it, even to himself, he was lonely. Achingly so. And Kagome, strange and overly talkative as she was, had not-so-discreetly offered him something that he'd never had before: the chance for friendship.

"She's crazy," he told himself, his voice echoing off the stark walls of his room. 'She's gotta be. The girl invited me to her _house_, for Kami's sake! What kind of normal person _does_ that? Me? A hanyou? Yeah, she's crazy,' he thought. "Fucking deranged," he whispered. He slid his closet door open and regarded his meager wardrobe with a disdainful eye, figuring that it would probably be in poor taste to show up in the grubby sweats and t-shirt that he'd scrubbed the floors with.

That being said, he didn't have much to choose from.

'What the hell do people wear on New Year's Eve anyway?' he asked himself. He had no idea. Prior experience had told him…absolutely nothing. The demon woman his father was currently entertaining in the living room had shown up in something akin to streetwalker attire with a sultry 'Happy New Year's' on her lips, and a bottle of whiskey in her hand. He doubted very seriously that anyone aside from her wore things like that for this particular occasion.

His hands rifled through the few hangers that held clothing idly as he pondered the escapade upon which he was soon to embark. There was no other word for it. It was insane. Absolutely insane. 'What to wear, what to wea—"

"What are you doing?" he growled at himself, once he realized he'd been shuffling through his clothes for a good seven minutes. "You're acting like a woman, that's what you're doing. For Kami's sake, just pick something, you moron," he berated himself. He shut his eyes and yanked out the first t-shirt his fingers happened upon.

"Black. Surprise, surprise," he grumbled, jamming his arms into the shirt and pulling it over his head. He wouldn't complain. Black was a very useful color when trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. He tugged on the jeans he'd discarded onto his bed earlier, and donned his shoes, slipping into his customary sweatshirt last.

Dallying in the doorjamb that stood between the living room and the foyer, Inuyasha tried to think of the best excuse to give his father, for his leaving. Though he'd considered it, there was no way he could hope to just slip out of the front door unnoticed. He'd simply wait until the man noticed him and demanded what he wanted.

"What the fuck do you want?" the older demon demanded. 'Like clockwork,' Inuyasha thought.

"I was wondering if I might be able to go to the library," he lied humbly, head bowed in respect he didn't feel.

"Since when does _your_ dumb ass go to the library?" he snorted over the woman's shoulder. She turned around to regard him under heavy eye make up, a condescending smirk twisting her kirsch-red lips. Inuyasha was hard-pressed to stop from curling his own lips in disgust. Her scent, coupled with the many men she'd been with previously, on top of his father's own inebriated scent, on _top _of the stench of cigarettes, cloyed in the air, and it was enough to make him gag. He wasn't sure whether she was a prostitute of just promiscuous, as his father had the tendency to be at times. Either way, she was simply another anonymous woman who had stumbled her way into his father's bed, and would stumble out the same way. His father and the woman would both get what they were searching for that night: hours of empty sex, each simply a vessel with which to sate their base desires.

With their deceitfulness, how was it that he was the one subject to scorn?

"I've got a project," he said vaguely.

"Project. Yeah, right. I don't give a shit what you do, just don't fucking interrupt us again, you hear? I told you that when she got here, you asshole," his father fussed.

"Yes, Sir, I hear you," Inuyasha said unassumingly as he slipped out of the door. The fact that the man had said 'she' instead of the woman's name wasn't lost on Inuyasha. His father was already smashed, and couldn't _remember _her name. He probably, hopefully, would be passed out when he returned.

* * *

He stared up at the numerous stairs that led to the modest house at the top of the hill. Glancing at his palm, he rechecked once, twice, three times, that the address scribbled there matched the one on the plaque adorning a small post adjacent to the stairs. Taking the steps two at a time, he reached the top, and found himself in a fairly decent-sized courtyard. Two benches lined opposite sides of the neatly-kept area, complete with freshly swept, varying shades of slate-colored stone fashioned as a path leading to a snug-looking home. Tiny lanterns glowed low to the ground along the sides of the path, bathing the white snow beneath them in a nasturtium golden blush; had it been warmer, the tiny fountain in the far corner would have bubbled happily. Beyond the house was the formidable-looking shrine that had given the property its name: Higurashi Shrine, obviously. And beyond that stood the tall and imposing forest, the tops of the trees swaying gently and making a soft rustling sound in the evening breeze.

He made his feet transport him up the walkway and to the door. Stiffly, mechanically, painstakingly slowly, he lifted his hand and allowed his fist to fall faintly on the door twice.

He suddenly wanted to hide. He wanted to duck behind the little fountain and hide. Inuyasha didn't consider himself a coward, per se. But he knew he wasn't going to be able to handle this. He'd never done anything like this before. And it was as if of his body's on volition, it had gotten him here, because he was certain that his clear, level-headed brain was left back at home, in the hallway by the phone.

"Oh, shit…I'm gonna be sick," he murmured faintly to himself. What if _this_ was a prank? What if she had a ton of people over at this very moment, and she'd only invited him as a joke? What if she was about to open the door and laugh in his face? What if…what if her _mother_ answered the door? He was just about to turn around and bolt home when a warm whoosh of air hit him in the face.

"Inuyasha! You're here!" Kagome greeted warmly. His anxiety level sank. Only the smallest, most fractional bit. 'Thank Kami it wasn't her mother,' he thought. If it had been, he just might have passed out.

"I can't do this," he blurted. She raised an eyebrow and frowned.

"What are you talking about? You're already here," she pointed out.

"Yeah, I know, but I—"

"You come all the way over here to knock on the door and tell me you can't do this? Yeah, right. No buts. You're doing it," she insisted, and grabbed the boy's wrist, jerking him inside.

"Kagome, really, I can't—"

"Take your jacket?" she offered, holding out a hand as she pulled open a closet.

"What? My jacket?"

"Yeah, that black thing you've got on your body?" she joked with a smile. Inuyasha didn't smile.

"What are you talking about? You can't take my sweatshirt!"

"Why not? You're inside—"

"It stays!" he hissed, his fingers clutching the fabric of the jacket as if his life depended on it.

"Inuyasha, you cannot meet my mother and grandfather looking like a hooligan. Souta would probably think you look cool, but Mama and Grandpa definitely wouldn't approve," she explained.

"Well, what do you think will scare them more? A hooligan or a hanyou?" he sneered through clenched teeth. She softened, and frowned.

"Aw, Inuyasha…they're not gonna care about that, I pro—"

"You don't know that! Of course they're gonna care! They _have_ to care! _Everyone _cares!" he whispered furiously.

"I don't," she said softly, truthfully. Inuyasha stared at her for a long moment, unsure of what to say.

"Well…that…that's because you're crazy! Doesn't mean the rest of your family isn't sane!" Kagome sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Stop being difficulty. They're my family, and I know them, and I know they won't care!" she exclaimed in hushed tones, sweeping a hand over the top of his head and swiping the obstructing hood off. His snowy bangs flopped over into his eyes.

"Hey!" he barked, clamping his hands over his ears, peeking angrily at her through the strands. She gave him a dry look.

"You gonna walk around like that all night?" she asked skeptically. He gave her a bewildered look, sighed dejectedly, and let his hands slip from his head. She smiled lightly, fondly at the tiny puppy ears that twitched a bit at their newfound freedom. "I think you look fine," she assured him, unzipping his sweatshirt for him and tugging it off of his shoulders.

"Who cares what _you_ think?" he grumbled as he wiggled his feet out of his shoes. She didn't seem to hear him as she proceeded to hang his jacket in the closet. Beckoning him further into the house with a tilt of her head and a flick of her wrist, she began to continue down the short hallway.

Inuyasha began to panic. What was he gonna do? What did she even have _planned _for them to do that night? Eat? Watch television? Perhaps, oh, dear Kami…_talk_? What did teenagers even talk about anyways? Sure, he'd eavesdropped on his fair share of conversations, as it was practically unavoidable, what with his sensitive hearing and all. But he'd never actually…_had_ a conversation before…not one that could be characterized as what was termed a 'normal teenager conversation'. Sure, he'd spoken to Kagome. On several occasions, in fact. But the topics of those conversations couldn't be considered 'normal'. On the occasions he had spoken to her without biting her head off, they'd been talking about either Lit class, or…Lit class. That was pretty much the extent of their dialogue. And now, he'd actually have to _talk _to her. About what, he had no idea, since he couldn't exactly pull from his repertoire of conversation topics. 'This is gonna be a disaster,' he thought miserably as she led him into the house.

In the midst of his melancholy and near-panic, he took in the sights around him. Her house couldn't have been more opposite to his. Where his house had tile and hardwood floors, hers had soft carpet, worn thin in places. Where the walls of his house were stark white, the walls of her home were painted with dusky earth hues and warm reds. Where his house smelled of alcohol, sex, and blood, her home smelled of spicy incense, various mouth-watering scents of food, and…and a cat. He looked at the back of the girl's head as she shuffled in her navy blue socks ahead of him, and envied her.

Suddenly aware that her family was just in the next room, he ducked his head and lowered his ears as flat as they would go. He didn't want to look at anyone; didn't want to see their wrinkled brows, upturned noses and questioning eyes, faces all posed in the expression he knew so well—the one he'd painted so many times over. He was suddenly wishing he'd had his wits about him and tied his hair back. With the stuff just hanging down his back, he was bound to be more of a spectacle.

"It's okay," he heard Kagome whisper. He peeked at her out of the corner of his eye, to see her reassuring half-smile. "It's okay," she repeated.

And then she promptly grabbed his hand, lacing her fingers through his.

He was so shocked at the action, that he followed his first instinct and tried to tug his hand away. Her grip was surprisingly firm, and she wouldn't relinquish her hold, despite his two more efforts to loose himself. He stared down at their joined hands dangling between his left thigh and her right thigh, her own olive complexion against his opaline white flesh, her fingers pressed into the back of his hand, while his own twitched nervously. He felt his throat constrict, and he swallowed thickly. If the action was meant to be comforting, as he was sure she could mean nothing else by it, it wasn't in the least. Now, on top of the anxiety and tenseness he felt at meeting her family, he felt jittery and edgy, and his hands were beginning to become quite clammy as well. 'Just wake me when it's over,' he moaned inwardly.

"Hey," she said, tugging on his hand a bit. He still hadn't tightened his own grip on her hand. "Relax," she instructed softly, giving the appendage what was mean to be a comforting squeeze.

"Mom, Grandpa, this is Inuyasha Chikamatsu. Inuyasha, this is my mom, Mrs. Higurashi, and my grandpa," she said. Inuyasha was stunned at how she sounded so proud—as if he were worth showing off. Risking a glance upward, he saw a pleasant faced woman of a bout forty-six, stirring something that smelled heavenly at a stove with a cream apron tied in a voluminous bow around her waist. 'Grandpa' was a squat looking old-man, who sat at the kitchen table, adroitly separating a large bag of peanut M&Ms by color with long, knobby fingers that reminded Inuyasha of Totosai's.

"Well, it certainly is nice to meet you, Inuyasha," the woman greeted benignly. She left her pot and wiped her hands briefly on her apron before stepping forward with one hand out. 'What is it with these people and _hands_?' he thought.Inuyasha stared at her outstretched hand for a long moment before he mentally kicked himself. 'Shake it, you dumbass!' he yelled at himself. But what of his claws? He pulled his remaining hand out of his pocket, curling his fingers under just so that his claws weren't visible. He briefly held the woman's fingertips between the knuckle of his thumb and the second knuckle of his index finger, being careful that his claws didn't touch her. It was the flimsiest, most fleeting handshake ever, he knew, but he'd rather have the woman think him a pansy than a monster. He had enough of that already.

"You too," he mumbled briefly. 'Oh, Kami, kill me now,' he thought, bewildered.

She gave him a curious look, but said nothing of the matter.

"Hello," the old man said briefly.

"Hi," Inuyasha replied. 'Oh, yeah. The old man hates me,' he told himself. The silence that followed was crippling. At least, it was to Inuyasha. "Where's the bathroom?" he blurted, reddening immediately. 'Just announce it to the whole world, why don't you?' he thought embarrassedly.

"Up the stairs, take a right, second door on your left," Kagome said swiftly. He nodded once and, jerking free of her nerve-wracking hand, he fled.

"Your friend is quite nervous, isn't he?" he heard Mrs. Higurashi ask her daughter once he was out of the kitchen.

'Nervous doesn't even begin to cover it,' he thought. Wiping his sweaty hand against his jeans, he proceeded to climb the stairs. Inuyasha shut the door against the clanking of pots from Mrs. Higurashi's cooking. He turned the little lock, and finally leaned his palms heavily against the edge of the porcelain sink bowl.

"What are you doin' here?" he asked the pale reflection in the mirror above the sink. "This…is one of the dumbest things you've ever done," he told himself. He was lonely. Okay, that was an established fact, and the very reason he'd come…but what was he expecting? After tonight, where did he expect this to go? Did he expect her to be his best friend? To hang out all the time? Where was this going?

Nowhere. Absolutely nowhere. He had no doubts in his mind that he'd screwed up any chance he might have had at being her friend. He'd screwed _that_ up from the moment he'd stepped in the door, having only furthered the damage with his poor excuse of an introduction to her mother.

He _wanted_ to be her friend. He could admit that much to himself now. He _wanted_ to talk to her…he just had no idea of the proper way to go about doing either.

A loud banging on the door snapped him out of his melancholy.

"Hey, Kagome! Open up! I gotta get my socks outta there!" a shrill voice called. Inuyasha frowned, and unlocked the door, an annoyed frown on his face. He swung the door wide open and was faced with…nothing. His gaze drifted downward until he was met by two humongous eyes staring at him in wonder. He frowned. 'What the hell?'

"You're Kagome's friend?" the little boy asked without preamble.

"Um…"

"I'm Souta."

"Inuyasha."

"Do you know how to play Madden?"

* * *

It had been thirty minutes. She didn't want to be rude and tell him to hurry and come out of the bathroom, nor did she want to embarrass him if he were in the middle of some…serious business. But, Kami, thirty minutes?

"I'm gonna go and get him," she told her mother, setting aside the utensils she'd been setting the table with.

"And would you get Souta, too, Dear? I'm sure he's in his room, last I checked," her mother called after her.

First thing was first. She knocked on the door to the bathroom. No answer.

"Inuyasha?" she called. No answer. 'Kami, what did he eat?' she wondered incredulously. "Inuyasha?"

"No fair!" she heard Souta exclaim from his room. Frowning, and having the suspicion that she might know where her friend had wandered off to, Kagome crept the few steps to Souta's room, and pushed the slightly ajar door all the way open. There sat Inuyasha on the floor of her brother's room, sleek black Playstation 2 controller in his hands, gripping it as if his life depended on it, face absolutely plastered to the television as he leaned forward at a ridiculous angle. Her brother was standing on his knees on his bed, gripping his own controller just as fiercely, his face the perfect portrait of a man done an injustice.

"How can you say that's not fair? It's totally fair! You rushed, I tackled, I stopped you clean in your tracks. It doesn't get much fairer than that!" Inuyasha crowed.

"Facemask! You totally grabbed my guy's facemask! That's a flag! Do-over!" Souta argued.

"Are you kidding me? That was a clean tackle!"

"You liar!"

"_You_ liar!" Inuyasha promptly retorted.

"Nuh-uh!" Souta whined.

"Yuh-huh!" the older boy argued right back. Kagome couldn't keep the snort of laughter down. Both boys turned to look at her, noticing her for the first time. Inuyasha promptly proceeded to turn red. "Oh…um…"

"Hey, Kagome!" Souta greeted his older sister cheerfully. "Inuyasha's really good at playin' video games! Did you know?" he said excitedly, jumping off the bed and coming toward her.

"No, actually, I didn't know."

"Yeah, well, he is! I don't know how many times he's intercepted me; and plus, he already got three touchdowns!" Souta exclaimed, bragging on Inuyasha as if it were he himself who scored.

"Well, finally there's someone to knock you off your high horse," Kagome smiled. "Come on, you guys. Dinner's ready." Souta bounded off downstairs, announcing that he was going to tell Mom and Grandpa how good Inuyasha was at games.

"Who knew you were a Madden whiz?" Kagome asked playfully as he got up from the floor. She knew he had long hair, but she didn't know it was that long. She'd assumed that it went to his shoulder blades perhaps. She had no idea that it hit his butt. Then again, she'd never seen the length that always remained tucked down in his sweatshirt.

"Not me," he replied with a shrug. "I never played one of those before."

"You've never played a Playstation?" she question incredulously. "What, are you more of an X-box kind of guy?"

"No…I've never played any video games," he elaborated. "But I now know why so many people spend hours and hours in front of that thing." He gave her a solemn, somber look. "It's quite addictive," he said seriously. Kagome looked at him dubiously and laughed.

"Well, you've just been crowned as Souta's hero. Don't be surprised if he latches onto you from now on," she warned.

Kagome had only been joking when she said that Souta would latch onto Inuyasha. The boy was practically a louse. But…it was quite cute actually.

Kagome wasn't quite sure what merit being a natural video game champion had for idolizing, but whatever the case, Souta welded himself to Inuyasha's side, and didn't seem ready to give him up anytime soon. He'd sat next to the older boy at dinner, fixing his plate so that it mirrored Inuyasha's and talking incessantly about…well…anything. From the time when his first tooth got knocked out to his baseball team tryouts, Inuyasha got the long and short of Souta's autobiography. Inuyasha took it in stride, and though he looked a bit overwhelmed and confused at Souta's behavior, he appeased the child by listening sufficiently. Once, he glanced across the table at Kagome, as if silently pleading for her help, at which point she just smiled and shrugged helplessly. To her great surprise, he smiled.

It wasn't a huge, toothy, Crest kids smile. Just a simple quirk of his lips, so slight, in fact, that she was probably the only one who noticed. Whether it was because of her photographer's eye, or the fact that she'd studied him quite intently when he wasn't paying attention, she'd notice any kind of smile on his normally caustically sneering face. And upon seeing that twitch of a smile, Kagome proceeded to beam back at him as if he'd just presented her with the treasures of King Tut. He pulled a face and quickly averted his eyes back to his plate. 'Well… so much for that,' Kagome thought.

* * *

Watching the sunrise. Wasn't that something straight out of sappy romance movies? Inuyasha wasn't quite sure. It wasn't like he had tons of invitations to go to the cinema. In fact…he really couldn't remember the last movie he'd seen…but that was beside the point. When he had surreptitiously told Kagome that he had to go, she'd looked crestfallen and insisted that he stay and watch the sunrise with them.

"I can't," he insisted.

"But…that's like the main event of New Year's," she pointed out. "Come on, only a few more hours."

"I really, really can't—"

"You sick of me already?" she asked. She was only joking. Kind of. But Inuyasha didn't know that. He frowned.

"No, I'm not sick of you!" he exclaimed, caught off guard.

"I know Souta's annoying and everything, but I thought maybe—"

"Souta's fine," he bit out. "You're fine, your family's fine."

"Then why are you all of a sudden in such a hurry to leave?"

"I…I just really need to go," he muttered. It was the truth. He did need to go. It was getting late…well. It was already late. But it was 2 o'clock in the morning, and he was sure that his father wouldn't believe that the library was open 24 hours a day. Besides that, he needed to wander around outside a bit so that the scent of her home would at least fade a little. He fidgeted, running a finger around the rim of his mug. He'd come to find that Kagome made very, very good hot chocolate. Not that he was exactly a connoisseur of chocolate, but if he _were_, he'd have to say hers was the best. Especially with the whipped cream on top.

Her eyes were practically burning a hole in the side of his face.

"What?" he snapped.

"The New Year is when you're supposed to lay all your burdens down and start over. You know, leave last year's troubles and worries behind," she told him quietly. He said nothing. "I get the feeling that's something that's very hard for you to do, Inuyasha."

Either the girl was way too perceptive, or he was just being a bit more of an open book than he thought.

"You are very troubled, yes?" she prodded gently. Inuyasha stiffened

"More than you'll ever know," he muttered, and then mentally slapped himself. Souta had long ago gone upstairs and subsequently fallen asleep. But where the hell was her mother? Her grandfather? How had they suddenly become alone in the living room, the television muted? If there was anything he knew from being alone with Kagome, it was that she had this strange ability to make him a bit loose-lipped. And he really didn't feel like having a shrink session on her couch.

"For one night though? Do you think you could let everything go, just for one night?" she asked hopefully. He didn't respond. "I think you'd feel better," she said.

"I think not."

"You wanna know what I think?"

"I'm sure you're gonna tell me either way," he said dryly. She ignored the tone.

"I think that what you need," she started. She shifted on the couch, folding her legs under herself and facing him. 'Kami, she's close,' he thought. He wanted to scoot away. But how to do that without seeming rude? 'Since when do you care about being rude?' he asked himself. "I think what you need is some support," she said finally, once she was situated. Well. He hadn't been expecting her to say that. "I know, you're feeling kind of bad because of everything that happened at the end of the term, right? That's what's wrong, right?" she asked.

Well. It was one of the many things troubling him, yes. He shrugged in rejoinder.

"I understand. I guess it's still bothering me too…but…I think that as long as you've got one good ol' reliable person there for you, well…you can't be too bad off, can you?" He could feel her eyes searching the side of his face for reassurance on that. He figured he could spare another shrug. She sighed and shook her head. "Inuyasha, please…just…tell me if I'm wasting my time here."

"Huh?" he grunted, finally looking at her. He truly hadn't seen that look on her face before. Even when she was sobbing in the parking lot, she hadn't quite looked like…that. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyebrows slightly wrinkled, her umber-brown eyes clouded over.

"Tell me if this whole thing is a waste of time," she clarified.

"W…what 'whole thing'?"

"This. I…I want to be your friend, Inuyasha. I know you have a hard time believing that for some reason, but…I do. And I just want to know if I'm wasting my time by trying to get you to want to be my friend too." Well, that was putting it clearly. Now he felt bad. Damn if this girl didn't have an uncanny knack for making him feel bad.

"I…I mean…you…Dammit. You're not…doing that."

"Doing what?" Okay, so she wasn't going to make this easy for him. So she wanted it spelled out for her.

"You're not wasting your time," he mumble finally after a few long moments.

"So…" she urged him to continue.

"So…so I guess…I want…to be…your…friend…too," he managed to squeeze out. 'Kami, when did I start sounding like such a little weenie?' he thought with a groan. But she smiled at him. Not that weird 'I'm so proud of you' smile she'd given him at the dinner table. But a genuine, soft, 'thank you' smile. What she was thanking him for, he had no idea. Any reasonable, sane person would realize what the implications of friendship with him meant and run for the hills. Hell, she'd already had her social life taken away from her. He would have thought she'd understand by now. But, damn, if she was gonna be that hard-headed…then he guessed he could take her up on her 'deal'.

"I'm really glad," she murmured.

So the evening hadn't been a total disaster. Sure, he'd managed to embarrass himself quite frequently, gained an annoying, albeit kind-of-sort-of endearing worshipper, and he'd come about a hair's breadth from spilling things that he himself didn't like to dwell on to a girl he barely knew. But, all in all, he'd managed to actually have a fairly decent time. Inuyasha was quite amazed. Her family was without a doubt the nicest, most accommodating group of people he'd ever met, and probably ever would meet. On his way out the door, her mother had graciously given him a Tupperware dish full of the flavorful food she'd prepared, telling him that there was much too much left over for only the four of them to eat, and to share it with his parents, who she hoped she'd be able to meet soon. Yeah right. Her house was warm and inviting and smelled of security. And…and she'd been really, really nice too him.

Kindness…it was another foreign concept. To him at least. The last time someone had been kind to him, truly _kind_, had been when he was nine years old. It had been a pretty cold, empty, cruel seven years.

But…if Kagome was going to do what she said, if she was going to be good on her word…perhaps he'd be able to make it out of high school with at least some semblance of a relationship. Perhaps he'd be able to say he had one friend. Perhaps it really _would_ be a happy new year, as so many signs seemed to suggest.

And that, Inuyasha thought, would be pretty damn cool.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Okay, I don't know if you guys noticed, but this chapter is freakin' LONG! It's 32 pages (in ms word). I honestly didn't even know it was gonna be this long…yeesh.

I don't know how I feel about this chapter. I really wanna move Inuyasha out of 'holding Kagome at arm's length' mode, but I don't want to do it too quickly. Review and let me know what you think.

(I do really like Inuyasha and Souta's relationship in the show. I think it's really cute, since he rarely gets to feel respected, much less looked up to.)

And sorry if the switch between POVs is weird…I really couldn't think of a way to make it any smoother. Hopefully the next chapter will be better.

Thanks for reading!

Review!

Wowzer313


	9. Tossed Greens' and 10 Questions

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, Rumiko Takahashi does.

Author's Notes:

People probably have lots of questions…don't worry. I'm pretty sure I know all the questions people want to ask, and I'm pretty sure I've got an answer to all of them! Heh heh… Just remember—I build action kind of slowly. As you've probably noticed. So just stick around. Don't get bored! 

**Chapter 9:** 'Tossed Greens' and 10 Questions

"Okay, so let's play a game," Kagome suggested.

"What for?" he groused.

"To pass the time. Come on, it'll be fun," she insisted. She heard his low groan from the other side of the car.

"Fine," came his sulky reply. Kagome rolled her eyes and smiled to herself. He just couldn't be chipper and go along with anything easily, could he? Well. At least he was here. She hadn't been expecting him to come over when she called not even two days after New Year's. It had been a pretty bizarre phone conversation.

"Hullo?" he answered. He sounded like his mouth was stuffed with cotton balls.

"Inuyasha?" she questioned.

"K'gme?" he muttered. Or…maybe like he was talking in a closet.

"Are you—where are you?" she asked.

"The closet," he replied, as if it were the most logical thing in the world.

"Oh…okay. Um…why are you in the closet?" She couldn't help but ask.

"Not s'posed to be on th' phone, r'member?"

"Oh, yeah."

"Yeah. Dad's outside," he said briefly. For the life of her, Kagome couldn't understand what was so horrible about him being on the phone. Was he on punishment or something?

"Oh, okay. Well, I just wanted to ask you if you wanted to go to a movie today," she invited quickly. She smiled when she heard his breath catch.

"Yeah?" he asked.

"Yeah," she assured him, a smile on her face.

"Can't. No money," he mumbled.

"Well, that's alright. We can still hang out if you want," she offered.

"Yes."

"Yes…you do want to hang out?" she said slowly, trying to decipher meaning from his vague answer.

"Yes."

"Alright…do you need me to pick you up?"

"No. Bus." What was he, a caveman now? What did it take to get a complete sentence out of him?

"Alright. When will you be over?"

"Twenty…five. Thirty."

"Okay, so…thirty minutes? Or twenty-five?"

"No."

"No?"

"Yes."

"Yes? Twenty-five minutes?"

"No."

"Thirty?"

"Yes."

Kagome sighed. He was acting really strange. "Okay. See you in thirty minutes," she said once more.

"Yes."

She hung up and frowned. "That was just weird," she said to herself.

* * *

Inuyasha poked his nose out of the hallway closet, sniffing carefully for any sign that his father was in the proximity. He'd already gotten his customary 'punishment' for the day, and was in no mood for another. Assured that the older demon was elsewhere, he slinked out of the tiny space and replaced the phone on its hook. Kagome had sounded quite confused at his brief, vague answers, but he was sure he'd gotten his point across, and what was more, if his father had any kind of ear on him, he'd have no information to go on. Yes, the closet seemed like it would be a pretty good solution to his phone-privacy issues.

At least when she answered the door this time, he wasn't exclaiming 'I can't do this!' That was progress. He just gave a brief, tiny smile and stepped in.

"So I was thinking if you just wanted to watch some—"

"Hey, um…how's your car?" he asked abruptly.

"Um…It's fine, I guess," she said, shrugging.

"I mean, it's still got the scratches in it, doesn't it?"

"Well, yeah—"

"You gonna fix that?"

"Well, yeah….I just…I just haven't gotten around to it. I was gonna go get some paint for it. I guess I just haven't felt up to it yet," she admitted. He frowned.

"I'll help," he said suddenly.

"You will?"

"Mm-hm….kinda my fault it happened anyway…" he muttered.

"It's not your fault—"

"I know you don't think it is," he interrupted. "But it is."

"It's not your fault, Inuyasha. You didn't scratch up the ca—"

"Do you want my help or not?" he asked bluntly.

"Um…yes. Yes, I do," she said, thinking that it was rather odd for him to be offering his help to her for a change.

And that was how she'd ended up in a car parts shop, in the paint aisle, arguing with a stubborn teenage boy about what color enamel she should buy.

"What about this one?" Kagome asked him, picking up a paint kit. "'Tossed greens'…hm. Sounds like a salad," she mused.

"That's not gonna match," he said bluntly. Kagome frowned.

"What do you mean? It's green, just like my car."

"Yeah, but it's not the right _shade_ of green," he pointed out.

"It _looks_ like the right shade."

"But it's not."

"You've seen my car, what, once? Twice? How do you know what color will look best?"

"I just know."

"I like this color. And it looks like it'll match to me," she muttered.

"You want the paint to blend, or do you want to have to repaint the whole car with 'Tossed Greens'?" he asked.

"Blend," she said, pouting slightly.

"Then I suggest you put that down. It's not dark enough. It's got too much yellow in it," he said knowingly. Kagome frowned at him, raised and eyebrow, and put her hands on her hips.

"Fine then. If you know so much, _you_ pick out a color," she said haughtily. 'Ha. Let's see him get out of this one,' she smirked to herself. She watched him as he scanned the rows and rows of paint kits, eyes quickly flicking over every little paint sample. He picked one out.

"This one," he said with finality, handing her a box.

"'Espalier'?" she read with a frown. "What kind of name is that for a color?"

"What kind of a name is 'Tossed Greens?' It sounds like vomit," he retorted.

"I think it's kind of catchy. And besides…I don't think this is gonna go too well with—"

"Believe me. It'll blend. Your car is more of a shamrock color…maybe just a hint of kale-green," he said, his eyes closed and his brow creased in concentration, as though he were picturing her car in his mind's eye. "This is just a bit lighter, but I think it'll work anyway," he explained with certainty. Kagome cocked an eyebrow and nodded slowly, giving the boy a strange look.

"Okay…"

"You don't believe me," he stated more than asked.

"Um…sure, I believe you," she said patronizingly.

"No, you don't," he accused, his brow wrinkling almost imperceptibly. "Fine. Go ahead and get 'Tossed Greens'. When your car looks like a lime, don't come crying to me," he said loftily. Kagome huffed.

"Fine. You know what? I'll buy both. Then we can _really_ see who's right," she said indignantly, and, swiping both kits, proceeded to purchase them at the front.

* * *

Kagome hated being wrong. What's worse, she hated being wrong when there was money involved.

Inuyasha had been right. Dead on, in fact. They'd set up their little painting operation in the small shed at the bottom of the tall stairs that led to her house. Quickly as she could get on the grubby sweatshirt she was going to work and in and tied her hair back, Kagome ripped open the paint kit, and taking out the included paint puff, poured the paint into an empty tray.

"I'll show you," she said proudly, dipping the gigantic puff into the paint. But even as she looked at it, she could tell it wasn't going to work. She hesitated, the puff hovering just over the 'D'.

"What's the matter?" Inuyasha asked from where he was leaning against a long wooden table, idly stirring his own 'Espalier' paint with a stick. "A bit too bright for your liking?" Ooohh, he sounded so smug. She could just throw that stupid puff at him. Kagome bit her lip and dropped the spent puff back into the tray.

"Okay, fine. You were right, I was wrong," she admitted, hating the words as she said them.

"Hm. Told you so," he said slowly, obviously relishing the fact that he'd one. He poured half of the espalier into another tray and handed it to her along with a clean puff and a smile. She managed to give a smile back as he rounded the car to work on the other side. And dammit if his paint didn't blend perfectly! You could barely even tell the difference!

"How come you're so good at matching color? You've barely seen my car. Kind of amazing that you could match the color so well," she murmured.

"Mm," he grunted, completely ignoring her question. "Did your mom see this?" he asked suddenly.

"No. There's only room in here for one car, and she likes to park on the street," Kagome explained.

"Good," he said. He sounded relieved.

"I haven't driven it since that day," she went on. "Actually…this is the first time I've been in here since then…"

"And you're sure your mom, grandfather and brother haven't seen it?"

"Yeah, I'm positive. They don't ever come in here."

"Okay." She wondered why he'd be so anxious for her family not to see it, until she realized that if they did, they'd automatically make the connection. She knew her family didn't mind Inuyasha's heritage, but she also knew that if they had any reason to suspect that her association with him was causing her harm, they would end it immediately. Well…Her grandfather would. Her mother would try to understand and caution her to be careful. Souta would have probably continued to put Inuyasha up on a pedestal.

The silence had become too oppressive and that was when she suggested they play a game.

"What kind of game?" His tone implied that he wasn't quite as eager as the question might lead one to think.

"Oh…I dunno. A question game?" He didn't reply for a long time.

"Like what?"

"Twenty Questions," she said. "Do you know how to play that?"

"I'm sure it can't be that difficult," he said dryly. Kagome rolled her eyes.

"Okay, so we each will ask each other ten questions, and you've got to answer truthfully," she explained anyway.

"I thought it was called twenty questions."

"Well…yeah. But I don't think it'll take us _that_ long to finish, do you? Besides, ten from you, ten from me—that's twenty," she said quickly. "I'll go first. Are you ready for this? It's a big one," she warned.

"Well doesn't that just fit," he muttered, and she could hear the reluctance in his voice. She smirked.

"Okay…what's your favorite color?" she asked. His head popped up over the roof of the Bug to regard her with a strange look.

"That's it?" he asked.

"That's it," she confirmed, rubbing her puff over the door once more.

"That's your big question? My favorite color?" he repeated in a deadpan voice. She looked at him. His expression was disbelieving.

"Yeah. Why? Do you _want_ me to ask you something more personal?"

"No…" he admitted, face thoughtful.

"Okay then. What's your favorite color?" she repeated.

"…Depends," he replied. He'd crouched back down. Kagome frowned, her puff pausing in mid-swipe.

"Depends? On what?"

"I dunno. The weather. The day of the week. My mood. Just depends," he said vaguely.

"So…you have more than one favorite color, then?" she stated more than asked. She set her puff down in the tray and walked around the front of the car to watch him as he carefully applied the paint in long, slow, even strokes, sitting atop an old tub of laundry detergent. She never would have thought of Inuyasha as graceful, but…strangely enough, as he painted her car door, that was the word that came to mind.

"Yup."

"How many?"

"Too many to list."

"Why?"

"Why what?" he frowned.

"Why do you have more than one?"

"I dunno. I just do," he replied simply.

"What's your favorite right now?" she asked. He thought for a long moment.

"Mm….Aleutian," he said finally. Kagome's eyes widened. Honestly, she was expecting blue.

"Um…aren't those islands?" He finally looked away from his task.

"Islands?" he asked, his head cocked.

"Yeah…like, near Alaska," she clarified. He squinted at her.

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure…"

"Hm…all I know is the color," he said with a shrug.

"What, um…what color would Aleutian be, anyway?" she asked, curious as to his answer.

"It's…I'd have to say it's a cross between slate-blue and a periwinkle color. More on the periwinkle side, though, if you ask me," he mused.

"That's…interesting…" Kagome said slowly as she stared at him. Honestly, what guy knew that much about colors? What guy even knew a color like periwinkle _existed_? 'Maybe…maybe he's gay…' she thought. For some reason, she felt slightly dismayed at that thought.

"How so?" he asked, his head cocking to the side. He wasn't looking at her. His eyes were trained on the task at hand, not straying the slightest bit.

"Well…that's not really a typical 'guy' answer," she explained. "Heck, that's not a typical answer period."

"Well, I'm not really a 'typical' guy, in case you haven't noticed," he retorted with a bit of bite in his tone. Kagome made a note to steer clear of any reference to what was considered 'normal'.

"That's not what I meant. I'm only saying, when asked 'what's your favorite color', most guys would say something generic and boring like 'blue' or 'red' or 'I don't have a favorite color'. I like your answer better," she said truthfully. She eyed him critically in his baggy jeans and sweatshirt that never left him. 'Nah…' There was no way Inuyasha was gay…he just didn't strike her as the type. Then what was with the color thing?

He slanted her a look out of the corner of his eye, and then looked back at the car, his mouth twitching up at the side slightly.

"My turn," he said quietly.

"Okay, shoot. Give me your worst," she said cheerfully as she turned over an old bucket to sit on. She leaned her elbows on her knees and propped up her chin in her hands.

"What's your favorite thing to do?"

"Favorite thing to do…thing to do," she muttered. "Um…besides being with my family and friends? Taking pictures. I've got three cameras," she answered. She also had her own little dark room set up in the basement, but she didn't tell Inuyasha that. "I could show you some of them when we're done," she offered, trying to be nonchalant.

"Okay," he said timidly. At least, he sounded that way to her.

"My turn. What is…what's _your _favorite thing to do?" she asked finally, repeating his question.

"I…um…Hey! You can't repeat questions!" he exclaimed.

"Why not?"

"The game is _Twenty_ Questions. If you repeat questions, then it's more like Nineteen Questions…" he rationalized. Kagome stared at him again.

"Okay…Fine. I'll ask something different." She thought. "Alright—what's the scariest thing that's ever happened to you?" she asked with a smile. Meanwhile, his slid away.

"Oh…uh…"

"You're not getting out of this one," she teased.

"I'll tell you my favorite thing," he offered instead. Kagome shook her head, grinning.

"Uh-uh, no way. I don't even want to know that anymore. I wanna know the scariest," she insisted. Inuyasha looked a bit pale. 'This is what you get when you agree to play stupid games with girls that you _know_ are nosy beyond all belief,' he told himself. He fiddled with the clean side of the puff. 'Lie, Inuyasha. She'll never know. Just lie."

"Um…scariest thing was when, I, uh…got lost. In the mall. I went to look at something in a display, and when I went back, my dad was gone. Just like that. Really scary for a five year old," he said quickly. Kagome frowned at him. He'd sounded unconvincing to even himself, and he knew she couldn't have possibly believed that load of bull.

"Alright. Fine," she said loftily, and he felt bad that she probably knew he was lying. But he'd be damned if he was about to spill his guts about being terrified every time he entered his own home. "You go," she prompted.

"What do you wanna be when you grow up?" he asked. Kagome blinked. "What?" he snapped defensively.

"I just…wouldn't have expected that kind of question from you," she said. "That's a good one…um…honestly, I don't know. I know I want to go to college, but…I don't know for what. Maybe biology? I like science. Maybe I'll be a scientist," she pondered aloud.

"What about photography?"

"Well…it'd be nice. But, I really don't think I could make a practical career out of that. If I could, I would, though."

"So, you're good at it?"

"Uh…yeah. I'd like to think so. I'm pretty good. But, with something like photo, I don't think it matters how quote-unquote _good_ you are. I don't think it matters about how it stacks up to a textbook definition of good. I just think if you enjoy it…then hey, you're good at it. But, that's just my little philosophy." Inuyasha nodded his understanding. "Alright. Me again," Kagome said. She chewed on the tip of her pinky nail as she thought. "Okay, I've got it. What is the saddest thing that's ever happened to you?" she asked finally.

Inuyasha froze. He rigidly set the paint puff down, having finished his side. Kagome had completely forgotten about her side, and wasn't planning on going back to it soon. The left corner of his mouth twitched down, and he looked at her, his face stony.

"You're really digging here, aren't you?" Kagome shrugged, and continued to look at him intently.

"No. We're only talking," she said. "Just don't lie to me this time," she warned. Inuyasha bit his lip and stared at the side of the car hard.

"I…it's none of your business…" he said, his voice cracking.

"Well, none of what we've been asking each other is really any of the other's business, is it? But we've been telling it anyway, right? Some of us more honestly than others?" she reasoned. Inuyasha blushed a bit. He didn't point out the fact that he hadn't asked her anything quite so personal.

What to do now? He didn't want Kagome to be mad at him. And it seemed like that was exactly what she'd be if she felt he wasn't being truthful with her. Should he tell? He rationalized that she _had_ in fact told him about what was probably the saddest thing for her. Even if they hadn't been playing a game at the time. A game he was quickly beginning to regret agreeing to. So maybe he felt he owed her something substantial in return for her sharing earlier in their relationship. His decision was made.

"My mom died," he mumbled, so quietly that Kagome could barely hear him. But she definitely _did_ hear him. Her heartbeat quickened. He'd lost his mother…so that was why he never talked about her.

"I—oh, Kami," she murmured. "Inuyasha, I'm so sorry…"

"It's fine, no need to apologize," he said quickly, shrugging and continually picking with that puff. "After all, you didn't kill her."

Kagome's jaw absolutely dropped as she stared at him in horror. 'Kill her? _Kill_?' Kagome's mind was reeling.

"I—she…Oh, Kami," she repeated faintly. "Killed?" she whispered, more to herself than anything else. But Inuyasha's sharp ears picked it up.

"Yep. Just like that," he said as he snapped his fingers one loud time, his voice eerily clipped. "In the blink of a fucking eye…one moment she's there, talking to me, the next, she's just…gray and red," he muttered, and Kagome had the feeling that Inuyasha had been there for whatever horrific event that had taken place. He stared intently at the cement floor between the toes of his shoes. Kagome swallowed thickly.

"How—"

"Nine," he said, effectively cutting her off. He'd read her mind. His voice was like ice, and he was wound so tightly, she could see it. She wouldn't ask how she'd been…well. She just wouldn't ask. Now she knew why he'd asked such peculiar questions in the library that day about her own father's death. She supposed, he wanted to see if she suffered as he clearly did.

Scooting her bucket closer to where he sat on the empty tub, she reached out for one of his hands that dangled between his knees. She gently pressed her hand against his, her palm slightly cupped, and shivered at the goosebumps that arose from his claws brushing lightly against the underside of her wrist. She watched as he stared at their hands, each flecked with speckles of green paint. His hand, she noticed, had a long cut that ran from the thin flesh between his forefinger and thumb, across the expanse of the back, and then disappeared into his sweatshirt sleeve. His hand was warm, too, and surprisingly soft. It wasn't as soft as hers, but it wasn't rough as she would have expected Inuyasha's hand to be. His eyes flicked to her face, and he seemed to be studying her. It was quite unnerving.

"I know just how you feel," she said in a small, unassuming voice. She usually hated it when people told her that they knew how she felt—when they assumed they knew how she was feeling. But, the truth was she _did_ know how Inuyasha felt: losing a parent at a young age. Granted, her father hadn't been _killed_—and she certainly hadn't been there as he died. But still. She had some knowledge of the feeling.

"I know you do," he said seriously, eyes boring into her brain.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked," she admitted

"It's alright—I figure…you told me about your dad, so I guess I could, you know…and…that's why— if you hadn't told me about your him…that day in the library…I probably wouldn't have told you shit," he said bluntly.

"Mm-hm."

"I…I've never…told anybody about her. Ever. I never…wanted to," he said slowly, his eyes squinting a bit, as if he were begging for her to understand the magnitude of the situation. She understood loud and clear. Because she knew just what that meant.

He was beginning to trust her.

* * *

Author's Notes: Well, that seems about as good a place as any to end it.

Next chapter: a surprise for you all!

Hey, look—2 chapters in one weekend! I'm on a roll, here, guys. Hope this part isn't awkward. I wanted to get him to open up to her a bit, and I figured, what way to do that better than 20 questions? Or, the reduced calorie version at least.

Also—I don't own Sherwin Williams Paint. (that's where I get all the colors from—seriously.)

Except 'Tossed Greens'! I think I read that on a salad bag somewhere…

Review for me!

Wowzer313


	10. Surprise, Surprise

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, Rumiko Takahashi does.

Author's Notes:

And now…the long awaited and much demanded arrival of! (drum roll please) THE OTHER CHARACTERS IN THE SERIES!!! TA-DAAAAA!!!! Well…three of them at least…

And here you go.

**Chapter 10:** Surprise, Surprise

"He's totally faking that."

"No way! There's no way!" Kagome exclaimed, practically retching.

"There's no way that's real," Inuyasha said in a deadpan, yet questioning voice. The strange English man picked up the large mound of elephant feces and began to squeeze the liquid from it…essentially…drinking it. "There's no freakin' _way_ that's real!"

"It's all real!" Souta insisted. "I swear, they say it's all real!"

"I think I'm going to vomit," Kagome groaned.

"Same here," Inuyasha muttered, frowning as the man wiped his lips of the remaining juice. "Gross," he coughed.

"That's so _totally_ staged," Kagome reiterated, pushing the large bowl of popcorn away from her.

"Nu-uh!" Souta argued. "He's got contracts—he's got to survive the wild all alone!"

"How much do you wanna bet," Inuyasha said slowly, watching as the man packed up his gear and prepared to move further along in his journey. "That he's got a big sandwich in that bag, just waiting for him on commercial breaks?"

"They can't do that…" Souta pouted. "He's got to survive on nature by itself—no outside help."

"Betcha he's got help."

"Betcha he doesn't!"

"I bet ya when the cameras are off, the filming crew is giving him lunch and a fan."

"I don't think they'd do that….that's the whole point of the show! Besides, if it was fake, then what was that he just drank?" the boy asked smugly.

"Well…I dunno. But there's no fucking way he just drank water out of elephant shit, after passing up a perfectly good stream," Inuyasha stated with certainty. Kagome smiled at the two boys' bantering. Even if she preferred that Inuyasha's language was a bit…cleaner. She wasn't about to correct him on it. Not when he was just beginning to lighten up around her. And she used the phrase 'lighten up' very loosely. Somehow, Souta had roped them into watching some American show, Man vs. Wild, where the queer man supposedly stranded himself in various places of wilderness, and then had to survive on nothing but the fruit of the land. And in this particular episode, abandoned in the heat of the African desert, the man decided to drink from elephant feces.

Well…Souta had more so roped Inuyasha into watching it than herself. Souta may have idolized Inuyasha, but Kagome was fast beginning to suspect that the fawning went both ways. Inuyasha was so patient and tolerant with Souta…she made a mental note to ask him if he had any younger siblings, since he seemed so adept at handling children.

The doorbell rang, and Kagome jumped, shooting Inuyasha a guilty look. He didn't seem to notice, as he and Souta were still bickering about the show's validity.

"Be right back," she muttered quietly, and tiptoed into the foyer to greet her friends.

"Kagome!" Sango and Miroku exclaimed in unison, immediately crowding the doorway to get in.

"Ssshh!" she shushed them with wide eyes, and shoved a finger against each of their mouths.

"Hey, what are you—" Sango began, pushing her friend's hand away, frown on her face.

"Be quiet!" Kagome hissed emphatically, shooting nervous looks in the direction of the living room.

"What's the big idea?" Sango asked, frowning at her. The pair began to kick off their shoes, stepping lightly around the fast melting puddles of snow.

"I…I um…look….I've got somebody over, and I forgot to tell him—"

"A new boyfriend? Kagome! You've been keeping secrets! You've got to tell me absolutely _everything_—"

"No, he's not my boyfriend! He's just my friend, but it's complicated, see…he's—"

"Kagome? Souta said he's tired and he's gonna go to—" Inuyasha's voice came as he rounded the corner. He froze at the edge of the tiled foyer, eyes going wide.

"Oh, whoa," Miroku murmured, leg lifted, in the process of pulling off a boot.

"Kami," Sango breathed, her hands raised to pull her scarf off.

"Shit," Inuyasha whispered. They stared at him, took in his long, colorless hair, his unusual eyes, his ears. He stared at them, took in their shocked, wide-eyed expressions; Kagome glanced frantically back and forth between the three. 'Perhaps I could have gone about this a better way…' she thought uncomfortably. A hard shudder passed through Kagome, and she was unsure whether it came from the draft of the open door, or from the awful feeling she got from seeing the horrible blush that covered Inuyasha's face. His ears flattened to become completely obscured in his nest of snowy hair. He shuffled a few steps backward before turning about face and disappearing into the house, undoubtedly to the bathroom.

She side-stepped around Miroku and Sango, pressing the door shut, and leaned against the wood.

"Um…th-tha…that was Inuyasha," she muttered guiltily.

"Is…is he a demon?" Sango questioned, her wide eyes still fixed on the hallway through which the boy had disappeared.

"Half…he's half dog demon."

"I've never seen a half-demon before," Miroku commented thoughtfully.

"Me neither…" Sango said.

"This is all my fault," Kagome moaned miserably, burying her face in her hands.

"He…he didn't know were going to be here, did he?" Sango asked.

"No…no, and I should have told him…it's just…everything's so complicated. I can't even tell you everything that's been going on at school," Kagome sighed. She wished Sango and Miroku still attended Daisuke. They had, the previous year. But Sango lived outside the school's district, and had to be admitted by boundary exception each year. That year, she'd been denied a boundary exception, and thus, had to attend a school closer to where she lived. Miroku, being, well…Miroku, had of course followed Sango to her new school, claiming that Kagome still had Eri at Daisuke, and so their quartet had been reduced to two duos. 'If they only knew…' Kagome thought.

"It'll be okay…" Sango comforted weakly, patting her friend's shoulder.

"No…he…he's really shy, because of…well…you know," Kagome said, motioning around her head vaguely. "I was stupid. I…I've gotta go get him…" She gave the other teens a nervous look, expecting them to begin head out the door.

"Okay. We'll wait," Miroku said, shrugging out of his coat and hanging it in the adjacent closet. Kagome gave them an appreciative smile before hurrying off to fetch her friend.

"I'm gonna raid your fridge!" Miroku called after her in warning.

* * *

"Stupid, stupid, _stupid_!" Inuyasha groaned, leaning against the tub. "What the fuck is _wrong_ with you? Moron!" 

Who _were_ those people? Obviously they were people Kagome wished to keep him hidden from…She'd looked so guilty…Inuyasha winced, bit his lip. 'Should I go?' he thought, eyeing the tiny window to his right. He could fit through it…but his shoes and jacket were downstairs. To get them, he'd have to pass Kagome and her friends, have to see their shock, and eventually their disgust…he was sure Kagome wouldn't want that. He could buy new shoes and a new jacket, but he would have to do without art supplies for a good long while. Not to mention he'd be half-frostbitten by the time he got home…

"Inuyasha?" came a tentative voice, coupled with a knock. He debated answering. "Inuyasha, please open up, I need to talk to you," she pleaded.

" 'S open," he mumbled. She pushed the door open enough so that just her head fit through, and looked down at him. She clicked her tongue sympathetically.

"Inuyasha…" she started, pulling herself into the tiny space and shutting the door behind her. She didn't hesitate to sit down facing him, perpendicular to the tub against which he leaned. "Inuyasha, I'm so sorry," she said earnestly. "Are you mad at me?"

"Friends?" he asked, completely ignoring her question in favor of asking his own.

"Yeah, they're my friends," she confirmed. He nodded his understanding, a slight frown marring his brow. "I'm sorry," she repeated. "I should have told you they were coming…"

"Why didn't you?" he questioned, with a little more bite than he'd intended.

"I…I just thought that if I told you they were coming over, that you wouldn't. Come over, I mean. I thought that you wouldn't want to come over if you knew they'd be here too," she muttered. "But that was…I don't know. It was stupid, I should have told you."

He stiffened as a thought occurred to him. What if…what if _this_ was the trap? What if she'd invited them over just to laugh at him? To laugh at the stupid, desperate hanyou who had the nerve to think that a pretty girl like Kagome would want to be his friend? He'd thought she was sincere after the whole car debacle…but…perhaps she was just that good? Perhaps she'd really been able to hold out her joke until now? Inuyasha was surprised to find that his heart clenched massively at that thought. Just when he was beginning to trust her…Inuyasha's face burned, and his fist gripped the fabric of his jeans tightly. He felt stupid and cornered.

"I should have told them, too, I guess," she admitted. "Kami, I just screwed everything up…" Inuyasha blinked, frowned.

"They…they didn't know I'd be here either?" Inuyasha asked, something falling into place. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Kagome falter and look at him shamefacedly.

"No." He frowned deeply. Well. That didn't seem to fit. If they didn't know he'd be there…what, was she going to surprise them with the results of her joke? That didn't seem likely. Maybe it wasn't what he thought…he hoped not. He wanted to be able to believe in her. He wanted to be able to trust her.

"Why didn't you tell them?" he asked finally.

"…"

"Why didn't you tell them, Kagome?" he asked, a bit more forcefully. She wrung her hands and gave him a worried look.

"…"

Her silence was making his stomach churn. He decided he'd hazard a guess.

"You…you didn't think they'd come if they knew I was here…" he assumed. Her silence confirmed it. "It's okay…tell them they don't have to go. I will."

"No, I don't want you to go," she burst out finally. He cut her a look.

"You're embarrassed of me, yes?"

"No, of course not!"

"It's okay. I understand if you are…I don't blame you or anything. It's totally fine, 'cuz I know I'd be the same way if I were you. And I—"

"Inuyasha, I am _not_ ashamed to be your friend!" Kagome cut in. "If I were, do you really think I'd invite them over here when you were here in the first place?" Inuyasha froze. He hadn't thought about that. He'd just been jumping to what was the most likely reason for her omission. She sighed and leaned sideways to lay her head against the wall.

"I just…okay. I'll admit it—I wasn't sure if they'd want to come over if they knew you were here, and yes, that's why I didn't tell them. But that was only because of what happened with Eri and the others at school, and they're here now, and I know they won't leave!"

"How do you know that?"

"Because. Sango and Miroku are my best friends, and I've known them ever since I can remember. They're good people, and I—"

"If you weren't sure they'd show up in the first place, how can you be so sure they won't leave now anyway?" he countered. "And you said you'd known some of those people at school for a really long time too, but they were awful to you anyway. What makes them so different?"

Kagome was quiet for a long time, her face pensive. Inuyasha scoffed and turned away.

"People are all the same," he muttered. "Nothing's changed."

"You're wrong," Kagome told him, her voice quiet. "People aren't all the same…I'm not the same," she pointed out. "I…I don't know how or even _if_ I can convince you that Sango and Miroku aren't like that…but…you'll just have to trust me on this one. I know what I'm talking about."

Inuyasha looked at her carefully. Trust her. While it had been a strange, even absurd notion before…he was surprised to find, that now it was actually a very real possibility.

"Besides…I was thinking that maybe if you all met…you know…they could be your friends too. I mean, who doesn't need more friends, right?" she suggested brightly, nudging him. Inuyasha's cheek twitched.

"Yeah, sure," he said absently. More friends. Right. As far as his track record went in that category, it wasn't a good one.

It wasn't as though he'd never had friends before. He had. Well…not friend_s_. He'd had _a_ frien_d_ before. A long time ago. It hadn't ended well….he had no reason to believe that this endeavor would be any different. Kagome beamed at him hopefully, and stood, beckoning him to follow. Well, if she was gonna look at him like that…

He supposed he could give it another try.

* * *

"I thought half-demons were supposed to be ugly," Miroku mumbled around a mouthful of cheese curls. 

"Where'd you get that idea?" Sango asked with a frown.

"Well…I mean, I've never actually _seen_ a half-demon. Until tonight. But, you know, you always hear those rumors flying around about them being these hideous…things. But, I mean, he looked pretty…well. I can't exactly say _average_, but, he's definitely not the misshapen beast that the rumors make you expect…I've probably seen humans that look stranger than he does," he replied thoughtfully. He broke a cheese curl in half before chomping noisily on each half.

"Yeah…I see what you're saying," Sango agreed.

"He wasn't that mean, either…" Miroku mused.

"He seemed kind of…skittish…."

"Not at all like what you'd expect…Guess you really can't believe everything you hear…"

"He's gotta be okay, right? I mean, Kagome wouldn't hang out with anybody who wasn't a good person…she's a pretty good judge of character, I think," Sango said.

"Yeah. He's probably alright…"

"Wonder if they'll come down anytime soon…"

"They could be…busy," Miroku said off-handedly. He cut Sango a sly look, and deliberately chomped loudly on a cheese curl. "We could be…busy…too, you know…If you'll just slide over just a little bit—"

She threw a cheese curl at his temple.

"You're depraved," Sango said flatly.

"Hey, guys, sorry about that," Kagome's voice came from the living room's doorway. She entered with the obviously hesitant boy a step behind her, averting his eyes from anyone in the room. The silence that ensued seemed to stretch on and on until Sango finally spoke.

"Hi," she began. "I'm Sango." The boy looked up at her, eyes peeping through unruly bangs, and gave a brief, shallow twitch of his lips, something Sango could only interpret as a 'nice-to-meet-you' smile. Loosely.

"Miroku," the other boy said, with a jovial wave and a disarming smile. Inuyasha merely nodded, his lips pressed firmly together, hands tucked securely into his pockets, and Sango felt bad for him. He was obviously uncomfortable and nervous. Looking at her friend, Sango could see that Kagome wasn't much better.

"Kagome? Come in the kitchen with me. I need to talk to you," Sango said suddenly, pulling the slightly protesting girl along with her into the hallway.

"But—"

"It's okay…let the boys talk," Sango smiled sweetly, and dragged Kagome down the hallway into the dining room. She slid the door closed to grill her friend more thoroughly.

* * *

Miroku looked at Inuyasha. Inuyasha looked at Miroku. Two sets of eyes wandered to the doorway through which the girls had disappeared. Miroku began to whistle. Inuyasha strained an ear in their direction. 

"Are you trying to eavesdrop?" Miroku asked suddenly. Inuyasha sent him a look that clearly said 'no shit, aren't you?'.

"Well I could if you'd shut up," he said flatly with a pointed look. Miroku nodded solemnly.

"Eavesdropping on the ladies…I think me and you are gonna get along just fine."

And without a moment's hesitation, the two raced after the girls to listen in closer to the dining room.

* * *

"Okay, spill," Sango commanded with an eager smile. 

"Sango! Shhh!" Kagome hissed, eyes wide.

"What?"

"He can hear you!" Kagome mouthed.

"How?"

"He has very good hearing! Trust me!" she whispered.

"Okay, okay, I'll whisper," Sango said huffily. She slipped the other girl a sly look.

"What's _that_ look for?" Kagome asked uneasily.

"So…you two are really just friends?"

"Yes!"

"You _sure_?"

"I'm _positive_! Why are you so hung up on it anyway?"

"Well…all I'm saying is…he's really cute," Sango shrugged. Kagome didn't say anything. "You don't think so? Haven't you noticed?"

"Of course I noticed!" she exclaimed. "I just…didn't say anything."

"How did you two meet? He goes to Daisuke, right?"

Kagome proceeded to give Sango the gist of her and Inuyasha's chance meeting and subsequent friendship, leaving out the bits about him finding her crying and their little heart-to-heart in her garage. She figured she really wasn't ready to tell Sango that Inuyasha was now her only friend at school; and the part about their secret chat really wasn't anybody's business but their own.

"Wow…so he's—"

"Shh—" Kagome commanded, still mouthing her words. She squinted at the door from which the snorting sound came. "Do you hear that?"

"Yeah…" the other girl said suspiciously. There was another snort and an 'ow!'. Sango and Kagome crept toward the door. Kagome slid it open, only to have two boys topple over at her feet.

"Inuyasha!"

"Miroku!"

"What!?" the boys exclaimed in unison.

"Were you two eavesdropping?" Sango asked needlessly. The boys didn't answer. Inuyasha propped his chin up in one hand, leaning on his elbow and looked away. Miroku merely peered up at them from his prone position on his back.

"You…you can't even really call it eavesdropping since he's so damned loud," Inuyasha grumbled, shooting his accomplice a dirty look.

"I told you I was getting a cramp!" Miroku defended, massaging his right calf. "I can't crouch like that forever!"

"You're the worst spy ever," Inuyasha told him flatly.

Sango and Kagome could only laugh and step around the two as they bickered. Kagome sent her two friends a silent thank you. She knew she could trust them to treat Inuyasha well. How could she possibly repay them for being so wonderful?

* * *

Inuyasha scrubbed at the stain of sauce that had splattered across the floor in the scuffle. He'd have to cook everything over again. He rinsed out his rag in the sink, and resumed his scrubbing, praying that the stupid red sauce wouldn't leave a ghost on the cabinetry's pale wood, as it had splashed there as well. He pressed his wrist against the gash at his hairline where blood flowed thickly from the wound. 

It had been his fault, really. He'd stayed a bit too long at Kagome's house, and thus, had missed his curfew by a few minutes, since he still had to 'air out'. He was glad he'd taken the time to get rid of the scent, though. He was sure that the punishment he'd received would pale in comparison to what he'd have gotten if his father smelled a girl on him.

Awful as he felt, he was glad he'd gone that night. He'd had a good time. But that didn't surprise him, because he _always_ had a good time when he was with Kagome. Between her, her family, and now her other two friends…Inuyasha was beginning to think that maybe he'd struck gold. From what he'd seen so far…they seemed to be pretty nice. Yes, they'd been a bit shocked when they first saw him, but he reckoned that was a pretty standard reaction, and not nearly as awful as it could have been.

It had felt good to with other people his age. Granted, he was silent for most of the night…he honestly hadn't known what to say. He was just learning how to talk to Kagome, and he certainly didn't have that down to a science. And so, he'd sat there placidly listening to them catch up on old times. He listened to Sango and Miroku's band trip story, the narrative mostly given by Sango. Miroku had nudged him in the side and commented on how many 'pretty ladies' there were in the marching bands from the competing schools…and then quickly told him to keep that little statement to himself.

He'd felt included. He'd felt good.

Until he'd gotten home, that is.

'It really _was_ my fault,' he thought. His father's unspoken time schedule dictated that dinner be made by seven o'clock at the latest. Inuyasha had arrived at six forty-five, and didn't have nearly enough time to fix the meal in the time restraints. And so, his father had of course taught him what the consequences of being late were. In the end, Inuyasha was left with a sizeable gash on his forehead, a few lumps and a burn on his arm from where the hot sauce had caught him, but he supposed it wasn't as bad as it could have been.

The doorbell rang, frightening the boy out of his wits. His father had long ago gone upstairs to take a nap, he said, forgetting completely about the dinner that he'd so boisterously yelled for. Inuyasha wrung the dirty water out of the rag and left it on the faucet to dry before straightening his clothes and rushing to answer the door, cursing under his breath. Whoever this person was, they were going to get him killed. It didn't matter if it wasn't his fault; if his father was woken, it would be his neck.

He flung the door open, ready to chew out whoever it was, but stopped short.

"Sesshomaru!"

The tall, elegant demon regarded him with a cold eye, his slightly turned up.

"Inuyasha," he said briefly, impersonally. Inuyasha smiled, relief flooding him like a warm feeling.

"You're here…Kami, it's been like, two months since I saw you last…how long are you staying for?" he asked, hope lacing his voice. The cavalry had come, and he was safe; at least for a few days. Sesshomaru sighed exasperatedly and moved him aside, entering the house. He slipped out of the thigh-length leather coat he wore and dumped it unceremoniously into his younger brother's unprepared arms, along with a small, sleek-looking black suitcase. Inuyasha faltered, balancing the load. Sesshomaru cleared his throat, methodically brushing imaginary dirt off of his polished, highly tailored, clary sage suit. Once again, the glaring inadequacy slapped Inuyasha hard. He looked down at his once-white t-shirt and his socks with the large holes in them, and wished he could just hide.

"So…so you're gonna stay for a while, right?" Inuyasha repeated. His voice cracked, and he mentally berated himself. 'Can't you just hold it together for a few minutes?' "Huh, Sess? You're gonna—"

"Where's Father?" Sesshomaru asked suddenly, ignoring the boy.

"Oh—he's upstairs. He said he was gonna take a nap for a little while, but I think he'd be glad to see you…do you want me to go get him?"

"Clearly," the older demon said condescendingly.

"Okay…I'll, um…I'll take your stuff up to your room," Inuyasha said needlessly. Sesshomaru had already walked away, surveying the house with a disdainful eye.

Inuyasha went to his father's room, prepared to knock and let him know that his favorite son was downstairs. There was no need. As soon as Inuyasha lifted his fist to knock, his father's door swung open, and the man barreled past Inuyasha to get into the hallway, knocking the boy sideways. Inuyasha stared after him for a moment, watching as he disappeared around corner, his footsteps pounded down the steps.

"Sesshomaru!" he greeted jovially.

"Father, it's been far too long," Sesshomaru responded in kind. Inuyasha could see them embrace in his mind's eye.

He trudged to Sesshomaru's old room, and flattened his ears as the hinges squeaked in protest. It looked how it had the last time he'd brought Sesshomaru's things upstairs. Neat, immaculate, and perfect. The periodic table of elements still hung on the wall over the desk, leftover from Sesshomaru's high school days. The cup on the desk still held pens and pencils. Inuyasha crossed the room and laid the suitcase and coat side by side on the bed. He allowed his hands to move gingerly over the soft leather, reveling in the feel of the material. He briefly wondered if everything in his art studio equaled even half of what this coat cost.

That cut on his head wouldn't stop bleeding.

Heading back downstairs reluctantly, Inuyasha passed by the main room, knowing that his father and brother would most likely balk at his presence, even if he only wanted to listen. He opted to go to the kitchen and finish preparing the meal that had been thrown.

"Inuyasha!" his father called.

"Yes, Dad?" he asked, rushing into the room. He waited with baited breath. Usually, he could get away with calling his father 'dad' when Sesshomaru was there. Everything was better when Sesshomaru was there.

"Go pour us some wine, will you?" Sesshomaru produced a tall, slim bag with the tip of a wine bottle poking out of the top of it. "We're gonna celebrate tonight."

'Celebrate what?' Inuyasha wondered as he took the wine into the kitchen. Taking out two fancy flutes, he filled each glass halfway, and served the two elder demons. He waited silently at the doorjamb, and simply watched them interact with one another.

"…is pretty sure she wants to have it there…"

"…lovely little garden…"

"…going to have it in Rome…"

Inuyasha tried to follow the little snatches of conversation that that he could catch from across the room, but found that they were either too cryptic or incomplete for him to derive any really meaning from them.

"…haven't told her about him…"

"…humiliating little…"

"…ruin the whole event…" Sesshomaru's eyes found their way to Inuyasha's at that point. The boy shifted uncomfortably under the weight of his brother's stare.

"For Kami's sake, Inuyasha, comb your hair once in a while. It looks like a bird's nest," he said smoothly, his nose wrinkling slightly in distaste. Inuyasha blushed and ran a hand through his locks embarrassedly.

"You see? It wouldn't do," Sesshomaru said to his father as if he were proving a point.

"I understand…however it's your call. I'm going to go and get some cigars." Their father left the room. Inuyasha fidgeted, and his curiosity got the best of him.

"Um…wh-what are you celebrating?" he asked timidly. Sesshomaru delicately picked up the fragile wine flute and took a small sip of the burgundy colored liquid, swallowing the tiny mouthful in precise measurements. He held Inuyasha in an appraising look before answering.

"I'm engaged," he said briefly. Inuyasha's eyebrows raised, and he tried to smile.

"Wow…really? Congratulations, Sess," he said in an attempt to be amiable. He wanted to hide his nervousness. He was always some combination of three things around his brother: embarrassed, nervous, or desperate. He hated that he still wanted his brother to like him. He hated that he wanted the man's approval so desperately. Hate, hate, _hated_ it.

"Mm," he responded in kind.

"So…what's her name?"

"That's of no concern to you." Inuyasha's brow wrinkled.

"Huh?"

"Try to be a little more articulate, Inuyasha. You aren't a caveman, so speak as though you have some type of education," Sesshomaru said fluidly. Inuyasha's cheeks burned.

"I'm sorry…I just—what do you mean it's of no concern to me?" Inuyasha asked, confused. Sesshomaru didn't answer, and Inuyasha suddenly didn't need him to anymore. "I…you…you don't want me to meet her, do you?" he asked despondently.

"No," he said bluntly. Inuyasha bit his lip and pressed the heel of his hand against that still-flowing cut. His head was throbbing.

"I…I'm not…invited…am I?" he questioned quietly. "Your wedding…I'm not invited to your wedding, am I?"

"You wouldn't have a good time," Sesshomaru said patronizingly.

"It's not about having a good time, Sess!" Inuyasha exclaimed. He frowned deeply and looked away, hand still held to his head. It truly wasn't about fun. He rarely had fun as it was. It was about…it was about being included. In his own family! It was about the fact that his own brother, who he practically worshipped, didn't want him to attend a life-changing event for him. It was about the fact that his brother was ashamed of him—no, worse, disgusted and repulsed! And the fact that he would hide Inuyasha from anyone that he could, so that no one would know that he shared DNA with a half-breed. In all honesty, Inuyasha couldn't care less about the actual wedding. He only wanted to be accepted into the one group that should have claimed him from the beginning.

"I wouldn't…I wouldn't be any trouble…" he whispered. "I promise…I would stay out of the way…and I would keep quiet. I promise. I…I'd even stay out of sight if you wanted me to…I…I just want to be there—"

"Even if you stayed out of sight, nothing would be able to cover up your stench," Sesshomaru bit out, his voice as venomous as his claws. Inuyasha's heart clenched.

"Please…please? I'm supposed to be there…that's what brother's do—"

"Don't call me that," Sesshomaru snapped. Inuyasha looked at him, bewildered.

"What?"

"Don't call me your brother. I am _not_ your brother."

"But—"

"But nothing. You are merely the product of a human egg and a sperm that just so happened come from the same demon as I. That's all. We are related only in the strictest biological sense of the word. _That_ is all. Don't ever mistake my…tolerance…for feelings of brotherly love, because for you, I have none." Sesshomaru's insult was swift, direct, and cut straight to the heart. He was continually playing with the younger boy. Sometimes he would be halfway cordial and decent…and then other times, most of the time, he would hand out invectives like that one. The ones that always put Inuyasha in such a state of shame, that he was actually nauseated from the force of it.

Inuyasha could say nothing. His jaw clenched tightly, and he couldn't bear to look at the older demon's too, too perfect face anymore. He fled the room in favor of locking himself in his own.

He laid carefully on his side, cushioning his head on his pillow and pressing his fingers to his cut. He was beginning to think that perhaps his father had put a bit of poisonous venom into that blow, whether intentional or not; something that was causing it not to clot properly. He didn't have the energy, or the will to get up and wash it out. So he lay there, hurting, hungry, and embarrassed.

Every memory Inuyasha had of Sesshomaru when the two were younger were always very vivid. He supposed that was because he'd so adored his brother when he was smaller, that he strove to remember every little detail about the older demon.

He could remember the first time he'd met Sesshomaru.

The social worker had parked her car in front of the imposing house that he was to now call home. He remembered feeling not much of anything, completely numb and cold. His mother had died only two weeks prior. There was no family willing to come forward and give her a proper burial, and so, Inuyasha had stood next to the strange-smelling, mean social worker lady while the grounds men worked deposit the plain-looking box into the dark hole, in what was only a half-step above an anonymous gravesite.

Now, he had to meet the father whom he'd never seen, and live with him. It hadn't taken the district's resources long to locate his father after searching through his mother's things…what had taken the most time was convincing the apparently enraged demon to take his own son in.

The nine-year old was hopeful, bleak as his demeanor was. He hoped that the man would like him. He'd never had anything close to a father before—he was eager to see what he looked like.

The lady opened the car door for him and popped the truck of the black sedan, taking out his small suitcase full of clothes. He carried on his back a small bookbag that held his crayons, paints and drawing pads. He was glad to get out of the boys' home. It had been awful there.

He remembered the feeling of absolute trepidation that clenched him as the woman rang the doorbell, remembered the apprehension with which he shifted his gaze from his sneakers.

His father had opened the door. He remembered gasping at him, and feeling afraid of him for a fleeting moment. The tall man made an intimidating figure to his eyes, staring up at him. The jagged blue stripes that etched down the man's cheeks both frightened and intrigued him.

"He's all yours, now," the woman said, and promptly got into her car and sped off. Inuyasha had watched the woman peel off from the curb, and turned slowly to face his father. But he'd already disappeared into the depths of the strange house. Inuyasha grabbed the suitcase that the woman had dropped on the stoop and hurried to follow him. He was already halfway up the stairs. Inuyasha decided he would try his hand at speaking with the man.

"I'm—"

"Silence," the deep voice commanded, booking no room for argument. Inuyasha immediately quieted, biting his lip. "I'll show you to your room. See to it that you do not leave until you are called…until I can figure out some use for you…" He sounded tired to Inuyasha's ears.

He did just that. He deposited the little boy in the bare room, and shut the door, leaving him to his own devices. Inuyasha sat forlornly in the middle of the empty room, his hands clenched into fists. 'What now?' he wondered.

His mother had lied to him, he realized. She'd always told him that his father loved him very much. She'd told him that the reason he couldn't come and see him was because he was an officer in Japan's army, and always in far off and exotic places, saving lives and defending liberty. She'd made him seem like the perfect father, everything a little boy could want in a dad: a hero, an adventurer, and a humanitarian all rolled in one.

That idea shattered around him in a million irreparable pieces as he sat in the vacant room, accompanied only by his bags within five minutes of being inside the house. It was a far cry from the welcoming Inuyasha had been expecting. He'd been expecting arms to be extended out for him to jump into, expected those arms to wrap around him and tell him that everything was going to be okay, because daddy was here now. He'd been expecting…something. Anything. But not this.

He needed to use the bathroom. Badly. He'd been told not to leave…but he really had to go. He crept out of his room, quickly located the restroom and took care of his business. On the way back to his room, he saw him.

Sesshomaru had been only seventeen at the time, and had not nearly reached his looks' ethereal peak…even still; Inuyasha couldn't help but stare as the teen passed him on the way to his own room.

"Hi," he blurted gracelessly. The boy paused and slowly turned. He looked down at the child, not saying a word. "I…I'm Inuyasha," he introduced hesitantly.

"I know," he said calmly, without any inflection. Inuyasha tried his nose. He wasn't very experienced with using his heightened senses in any direct way…his mother taught him many things, but she hadn't been able to teach him that. Though inexperienced, he could still pick out the similarities between the youth and his new father. Aside from that, he looked just like the man, differing only in the color of the stripes on his high cheekbones.

"You're my brother?" he asked finally. There was no response from him. "I…never had a brother before…what's your name?" The boy turned away from him silently, retreating into his room. Inuyasha could only stare on, bewildered. What had he done wrong? The boy then emerged, a light jacket thrown over his arm, and Inuyasha watched as he jogged lightly down the stairs, long hair bouncing slightly with his movements.

"The half breed's out," he heard him say. Inuyasha panicked, and ran to his room, instinctually afraid of what would happen if his father found out…

He'd followed Sesshomaru. All the time. He supposed that was what all little kids did to their older siblings: followed them, asked them a million questions, and pestered them to no end. But in his case, there was no room for play. It was no joking matter. Sesshomaru ignored him completely, as thought he were a mere fly; annoying, but of no consequence.

Inuyasha had adored him. He would watch as he practiced his kickboxing on the dummy that sat on the patio in the backyard. He asked him to teach him as well. He bluntly declined.

"Why don't you like me?" Inuaysha got the nerve to ask one day after one of Sesshomaru's intensely long training sessions. He was ignored. Sesshomaru blotted the sweat from his brow with a towel and took measure sips of water from his bottle. Inuyasha tugged on the pant leg of his sweats. "Hey!" he shouted petulantly. "Why don't you like me?"

"Because you are the ignominy of this family," the teen said coolly, shaking the child off. Inuyasha screwed up his face.

"What does 'ig-noh-men-ee' mean?" Sesshomaru crouched in front of the boy and looked him straight in the eye.

"It means that you're a disgrace. An embarrassment. You humiliate Father and me with your presence. You bring shame to this family. And if it weren't for you, Father would not have fallen into the depression that he has."

"But—"

"There are no buts. That's all. You _shame_ us. Do you not understand that? Do you not know that you were an accident? That you aren't supposed to exist? And that because of you, _everything_ is ruined? Did you know that?"

Inuyasha could only shake his head, no.

"And now," Sesshomaru said, standing. "You do. So don't forget your place in this house, Half-breed, is a low one. You aren't above the vermin that ravage the forest."

Inuyasha stood there shaking.

"But…but…I'm just like you!" he exclaimed, trying not to cry. "I…I look like you and Dad! I'm a dog-demon too—"

"No!" Sesshomaru exclaimed, and it was the most emotion Inuyasha had yet to see from the teen. "No, you are not. You are a half-breed. You are a mistake. An abomination. You do _not_ personify a _true_ dog demon in the least, so do not make the fatal mistake of thinking that you do. You just remember that your mother was a _human whore_ that tore _this_ family apart, and you should get along just fine. So long as you remember your place." And with that, Sesshomaru glided into the house, leaving Inuyasha alone.

Inuyasha remembered the confusion that knocked around in his head after that. 'A mistake?' he'd thought. He couldn't stop the tears that slipped down his cheeks and collected under his chin. Sesshomaru's words were biting.

His mother had never mentioned anything about him being a mistake…then again…she'd lied about his father as well. Looking back, he supposed she'd lied about his father to protect him. When he began to wonder why she'd tell him such lies when they would eventually meet, he had to remind himself that she probably never intended for them to meet…at least not when he was still so young. She'd planned on being there for him always, so that he wouldn't _have_ to meet his father, and see the hate that the man truly harbored for him.

But she hadn't planned on being murdered.

* * *

Author's Notes: 

Dang, I didn't expect that chapter to be that long….whew! I just get to writing sometimes, and I can't stop…

Sorry, no 2 chapters this weekend—I had to work ALL DAY yesterday! But that's okay. More money more money.

I'm kind of shaky on the Sango-Miroku part, and I really don't know if I can fit Shippo in here without it being kind of weird and disjointed…but I think the Sesshomaru/flashback part turned out nicely. I like at least. Let me know if you did! (wondering if I was a bit over the top with the sperm-egg insult...it seemed Sesshomaru-ish—you know, the type: when they get you, they _really_ get you…He seems like the 'go for the jugular type.)

Review!

Wowzer313


	11. Show Me

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, Rumiko Takahashi does.

Author's Notes: Methinks…there is fluff in this chapter. Oh yes. I know you've been wanting it.

And I just want to say thank you to all of those people who review—you guys are great, really. It encourages me _so much_ that you take the time to press that little link and give me a kind word. It really helps with the motivation to write, no lie. Please, continue to do so…and if you haven't reviewed yet…well, it's never too late to start… 

Also—I'm so happy that I'm making you all feel the story! It truly _is_ the best compliment to an author that their story moved someone, so thank you!

Onward!

**Chapter 11**: Show Me

"What's another word for…'wrong'?" Inuyasha asked aloud, chewing on the clip of his pencil. He smirked to himself when he heard Kagome groan.

"You know…there's a perfectly good thesaurus on the shelf over there," she pointed out. Inuyasha followed her finger to the yellow bound book on her bookcase.

"Yeah…but there's a perfectly good thesaurus right at this desk too," he said slowly. "And the best thing? I don't have to turn her pages…or get up," he said with a smile. "Plus, she's got audio." The girl in question gave him a pointed, slightly annoyed look.

"You're ridiculous," she said flatly, tapping her pencil against her calculus book.

"Please? My grade depends on it," he mock-pouted. She shook her head and smiled.

"Okay…what's the context?"

"Um…hell, I dunno. Just…'wrong' like…that's not right. You know? Something besides 'incorrect', I've used that like ten times already," he explained, frowning at his essay.

"Alright, um…inaccurate? Let's see, what else…fallacious? Erroneous?"

"Mmm…the second one."

"Fallacious?"

"Yeah. Spell that, will you?"

"Inuyasha…"

"Okay, okay…that's like those logic arguments we did the other day, right?" he asked, jotting the word down

"Right. Fallacious, as in, 'That is a fallacious statement,'" she elaborated. Inuyasha nodded his understanding, shaking a finger at her and squinting at her through one eye.

"You…I knew you were smart. Much better than some stupid thesaurus," he stated with finality.

"You're smart too, you know," she said softly.

"Yeah, right. No I'm not. I'm still borderline failing out of this stupid class," he corrected.

"There's different kinds of smart," Kagome pointed out.

"But there's only one kind that counts," he retorted, eyes never straying from his paper. "And that is the kind that gets you to graduate. Just so happens to be the kind I don't have." Kagome regarded him for a moment, his head propped up by one hand, bent over his messily scrawled essay, which she prayed he was going to type, eyes flitting back and forth between the paper and his open book.

It had become a ritual for the two of them over the past month. Everyday after school, they would drive to her house, she would pull her desk away from the wall, and they would do their homework together, her on one end, facing the wall, and him on the other, facing her bed. Well…she'd do her homework, and then help Inuyasha with Lit & Comp. He had trouble with that class quite often. He did fairly average in everything else, except for that class in particular. Even still…he didn't strike her as stupid. He was actually quite intelligent, she thought. It just didn't seem to translate to his marks in school.

She smiled at the top of his head. 'Kami, he's so cute,' she thought. She'd find herself thinking that more and more lately, sneaking savoring glances at him only when she was absolutely positive he wasn't paying attention—usually when Souta had distracted him. She thanked the heavens that he'd finally gotten over his aversion to his ears being free in her presence—she tried to stifle her grin at the cute triangles' antennae-like swiveling.

Feeling mischievous, Kagome slipped her desk drawer open, and smuggled her large, bulky camera out. She turned the dinosaur on and waited a few moments. Popping the lens cap off and peeking the lens over the edge of the desk, she leaned back in her chair under the pretense of stretching, while trying to focus. She pushed the button, and the ancient piece of equipment snapped and whined loudly, alerting her subject.

"What the—what was that?" His eyes fell to the shiny piece of glass winking back at him innocently. "Hey! Did you just take a picture of me?"

"Yup," Kagome said smugly, patting the camera. He frowned, eyes wide.

"Why?"

"Because. I like to have pictures of all my friends," she said simply, and raised the camera to her eye so that she could focus properly. "Smile." And she snapped another photo.

"Hey! Quit!" he groused. Kagome giggled at his peeved expression, imagining the way the photos would turn out. She snapped another one. "Kagome! I wasn't even ready!"

"That's the best kind—candid," she replied brightly, and promptly shot him again. Inuyasha's face set in a sullen, petulant expression, his arms crossed as he shot her an annoyed look. Kagome captured that too.

"At least lemme see it," he grumbled.

"Can't. Not yet at least. It's not digital or Polaroid. I do things the old fashioned way," she explained. She stood and moved to his side, where he watched her with a contemplative look on his face. She refocused her lens and snapped.

"Dunno why you'd want a picture of me anyway," he mumbled. Kagome lowered the camera from her face, looking at him thoughtfully.

"Why wouldn't I? You're a good subject," she said, raising the camera and snapping his photo once more. 'Because you're hot!' she thought. "You've got a good face," she chose to say instead. He gave her a sidelong glance.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. Your expressions—you've got a million of them."

"Really. Well, how's this one?" he asked, and promptly gave her a one-fingered salute just as her flash went off. Kagome gasped, wrinkling her nose and shoved him in the shoulder playfully as he smirked at her.

"Jerk," she said with a smile. She went to her bookcase. "Wouldn't you know it? I've got a new album. And you, Mr. Chikamatsu, have the high privilege of being the first one in it," she told him.

"I'm honored," he said. Kagome couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not. He was hard to read sometimes.

"You should be," she answered in rejoinder. "It's only a select few that get to be in my albums. It's pretty much an elitist group." He shocked her out of her skull when he sidled up to her, hands in his pockets, and peering over her shoulder at the red album she'd pulled out.

"So…you develop 'em yourself?" he asked.

"Yup. All on my own," she said.

"How?"

"Well, first you've got to…well…do you want to see?" she asked him. He raised an eyebrow.

"Right now?"

"Yeah. I…I could show you better than I can tell you."

"Where?"

"In the basement," she said offhandedly. It wasn't often that she showed people her darkroom. Sango had only been down there once, and Kagome felt that even _she_ didn't _truly_ appreciate it. She'd said 'Cool,' and that had been it. Kagome had been expecting…something. Some type of reaction…nothing major, but something to show that she understood how…sacred…the place had been to her. Of course…Sango wasn't into photo the way she was. And that was okay. She just wouldn't understand how special it was for Kagome to have her own space to do what she wanted. But…maybe Inuyasha would?

"Sure."

* * *

"Well, this is it," Kagome said proudly, leading Inuyasha down into the basement, furnished with red light. She let him go ahead of her when they reached the base of the stairs, closing the door behind them. She watched him apprehensively as he moved through her space, intense eyes flicking restlessly over her equipment and baths. There was an odd look on his face, and she wished she could have photographed it…an expression she'd seen from him only once before.

"You've got all your own stuff…your own space…" he stated more than asked.

"Yup…" He moved over to the several lengths of clothesline from where she hung her drying photos. At this particular time, there were a series of shots she'd taken on one of her private nature walks. His fingers brushed the edge of one gently, a picture of the forest's canopy with the light filtering through the leaves, and the entire line bounced from the disturbance.

"I like this one," he commented softly. Kagome smiled at his back. Now _that_ was the kind of reaction she was looking for. One of reverence and…maybe even a bit of admiration. "How do you develop them?" he asked.

Kagome grinned to herself and took a random roll of film from the bin that hung on the side of her sink. Her smile widened as he came closer to her, curious. Kagome poured the necessary chemicals into the tubs that served as her baths, and processed the roll of film. Inuyasha was especially impressed when the image of the picture swirled up to them through the liquid.

"Cool," he breathed.

"Yeah," Kagome agreed. She rinsed the new exposures and clipped them on a new length of clothesline to dry.

"When are you gonna develop those pictures of me?" he asked.

"Later. I haven't used the whole roll yet," she replied, swinging herself up to sit on the edge of a fairly uncluttered table. He continued to wander around the little room, examining her pictures and peeking into bins to see what they contained. Kagome watched him, frowning a bit. He was still such a mystery to her. Even after all the time they'd spent together…when she thought about it, she realized that she still new very little about the beautiful boy in front of her. He didn't like to talk about himself, and the only thing she knew about him was that his mother had passed when he was very young, and that he had several favorite colors. She didn't know who he lived with, where he lived, or even what he liked to do. He was a puzzle, an enigma—he was absolutely fascinating.

"So…spill it," she said suddenly, swinging her legs back and forth from her perch.

"Huh? Spill what?"

"Something. Anything. I've told you almost everything about me. But you…come on, Inuyasha, I hardly know anything about you! What…what do you like to do for fun, huh? Surely hanging out with me isn't the only thing you do," she teased. He gave her a strange look at that, and quickly turned away. "Come on…show me…show me what you're into," she prodded, hopping off the table and walking towards him. He was quiet for a long time, and for a moment, Kagome was afraid she'd gotten him mad, or perhaps he'd gone into one of his moods. He would do that from time to time—she would unwittingly hit on a subject that was apparently sore for him, and for unpredictable amounts of time, he would be silent as the tomb, and not even Souta could snap him out of it.

Luckily, this time, that wasn't the case, and he turned back to her, looking very uncertain, and, Kagome was surprised to find, quite vulnerable.

"You…you wanna take a little trip?" he asked timidly.

"A trip…?"

"Y-yeah…I…I could show you better than I could tell you."

* * *

"When I said 'Show me what you're into', I didn't mean your drug habit," Kagome said flatly when they arrived at the seedy-looking building. Inuyasha rolled his eyes and nudged her with his elbow.

"Shut up. I don't have a drug habit, Stupid," he said. Kagome looked unconvinced as she eyed the run-down place. When they'd left the house, she'd thought maybe he was going to show her some hidden sports talent he had, perhaps basketball since he was so tall. Perhaps he'd show her a theatre where he participated in plays, or something to that effect. But this…this was a bit strange, to say the least.

The place looked like a halfway house, and Kagome half-expected a crackhead or some other type of unsavory character to come out of the front doors. "Come on, let's go." She didn't move. "Are ya gonna come up or not?" She gave him a doubtful look, and reluctantly followed him into the building's alcove, where Inuyasha proceeded to punch in a code to be allowed access.

In Kagome's humble opinion, it didn't get much better from there. The beige tiles that made up the floor were cracked, crumbling, and filthy. Once-white paint peeled from the walls in sheets, revealing the pocked plaster of the dry wall. Kagome was positive she'd seen a roach scuttle from underneath a stiff-armed chair to an open broom closet, which she was _sure _hadn't been used in any recent decade. Cobwebs hung heavy with dust from the corners of the musty-smelling lobby. Kagome cringed. Was she sure she wanted to do this?

She watched suspiciously as Inuyasha conversed lowly and briefly with a rather sickly-looking old man. The old man frowned at him, then shot Kagome an untrusting look, and handed Inuyasha an envelope, muttering a dismissal that she couldn't quite hear. Now she was sure. She _didn't_ want to do this. She didn't want to be here, in this dilapidated, musty building with Inuyasha as he did something that appeared to be illegal—now she was almost _positive_ he was into drugs, or something criminal.

"Uh…Inuyasha…" she called hesitantly. The boy already had one foot on the first stair. He turned back to her expectantly.

"Oh…sorry, the elevator's broken," he said apologetically. 'That, somehow, does _not_ surprise me…' Kagome thought. 'Even if it _was_ working, I wouldn't trust anything mechanical in _this_ building.'

"Oh, no that's fine…um…I just—"

"It…it's not as bad as it seems," he said quietly, reading her thoughts before she could voice them.

"I wasn't thinking that! I was only—"

"Yes, you were," he said knowingly. "If you don't wanna go up…I understand. I just, you know…wanted you to see it…"

"…O-okay…" Kagome sighed. She hadn't meant to be that rude. She hadn't meant to make him feel inadequate. And she surely didn't want to ruin the progress she'd already made with him by making him think that she felt superior to him.

"You sure?"

"Totally. Come on, let's go," she insisted, even if she'd sounded a bit unsure and fake.

He led her up the stairs to the topmost floor. Kagome followed him to the end of a long, dark and dank hallway, which was lined with what she could only think of as loading docks in the backs of warehouses. Inuyasha squatted in front of one of the quasi-loading docks and punched a number into a heavy padlock that kept the door secure. Shooting her a nervous glance, he rolled the folding steel upwards to let her in as she ducked to enter. The rolling door slid closed loudly, and seemed so ominous as it echoed throughout the sparse room.

"Well…here it is…so…you can, you know…look around or whatever," Inuyasha mumbled, hanging his jacket on a hook to their left. He held his hand out to take her coat as well. She gave him the garment, unsure what exactly she was supposed to look at.

There was a large, misshapen lump covered by a bright blue tarp in the far corner, as well as racks of some sort covered with dirty sheets on the opposite wall. Kagome crossed tentatively to the mysterious lump. Inuyasha had situated himself at the small window just beside it, leaning his elbows on the sill and chewing the claw of his pinky finger. He was focusing intently on something outside, careful to avoid her eyes at all costs it seemed.

Inuyasha's stomach was turning somersaults. He knew she was uncomfortable, and he slapped himself for not thinking about her comfort first. Of _course_ she'd be uneasy—the place didn't exactly look like a top-notch hotel. He'd only been compelled to show her his little oasis when she'd shown him what was apparently hers. After that…he supposed he did want her to see his paintings. But now that she was here, and actively reaching out to remove the tarp that kept them hidden from view and safe from dust…well…he didn't know _what_ he'd do if she disapproved. He couldn't bear to watch as she looked.

So he stared out the window, pretending as though he could actually see something through the smears that covered the glass. He realized that his hands were trembling quite persistently. Did she realize…? No…probably not. There was no way she could realize just how…huge…this was for him. After all, as she'd said herself: she hardly knew anything about him. There was no way she could know just how much he was putting himself out there, just how much he was risking by bringing her here.

The static-like rustle of the tarp caught his ear, as did her quick intake of breath. He clenched his eyes shut and bit his pinky claw hard. He waited for the inevitable laughter, 'Ew,' or 'What the hell?' that he was sure was coming—

"Oh, Inuyasha…" she breathed. "Kami…"

Well, _that_ didn't sound like disgust.

"I had no idea…" she continued. The wood slats of the rack clunked together as she flipped through the dividers that held his pieces. "_That's_ why you're so into colors," she said, realization dawning on her. He took a chance and peeked at her. She beamed back at him. "You're an artist," she said simply. Inuyasha blushed and looked at the window sill.

"Nah…I'm no artist. I just mess around," he murmured, his voice shaking.

"Just mess around? Inuyasha, if this is you just messing around, I'd love to see what you do when you're being serious. These are absolutely incredible." He watched her out of the corner of his eye as her hands fluttered lightly over the edges of the canvases, as she murmured small sounds of approval. His heart swelled in his chest, and he thought he might burst. No one had ever…_complimented_ him before. But then…no one had even seen his work before. Even still—it felt wonderful to have someone tell him that they approved.

"Can—can I touch them? I mean, can I pull one out and look at it?" she asked.

"Yeah, go ahead." He head the gentle 'shick' of canvas against canvas as she pulled out a piece, and the sound as she replaced it. She looked at about three pieces before asking an innocent, "Who's this?"

Inuyasha turned to look, and froze. The girl had a knack for plucking on the deepest heartstring, didn't she? She'd gone to the back of the first rack and pulled out a fairly large canvas, one that stood at about her waist. She held out the large rectangle, her chin just barely grazing the top of it, a curious little half-smile playing on her lips. The image suspended on the cloth tugged at him, and he was hard-pressed to stifle the grunt of pain that threatened to pour out of him.

"My mother," he said quietly, and he was positive that she hadn't been able to hear him.

"I thought so," Kagome murmured softly. She leaned the top of the painting against the edge of the rack, holding the bottom to regard it more fully. "She's beautiful."

"Thanks," Inuyasha grunted, because he didn't know what else to say.

"You look just like her," came her soft reply, and his breath caught in his throat. Was she saying that he was…? No. No, that couldn't have possibly been what she meant. He risked sneaking a glance at her, only to find her smiling gently right back at him. He quickly turned away, a blush staining his cheeks.

Yet and still, the image on the canvas she held haunted him. He could remember the exact moment his mother had given him that look—the one that whispered, "It's okay. It's alright. I'm here with you, and I love you." The one he'd intentionally recreated, so that every time he looked at it, he could hear those words again.

* * *

It had been a horrible day. It had been nothing like what his mother said it would be. It wasn't fun, it wasn't wonderful, it wasn't happy. Inuyasha trudged towards the elementary school's entrance, dragging his brand new backpack on the tile behind him, tons of other children rushing past him and chattering like mad. His ears drooped, his mouth tugged downwards, and the torn collar of his t-shirt hung limply around his neck. Pushing the doors of the school open, he squinted as the sunlight hit his face, and raised a small hand to block the offending rays. He breathed a massive sigh of relief. She was there.

He picked up his bag and ran to the one woman that wasn't socializing with the rest of the parents lined up to receive their children. She leaned against their modest gray car, hands folded demurely in front of her, a cheery, if not uncomfortable smile on her pleasant face. As he neared her, she crouched and spread her arms, which he promptly barreled into, pressing his face into the crook of her neck.

"Mommy," he murmured, his voice muffled, relief and calm flooding his system like a tidal wave. He inhaled deeply, having missed her scent, warmth and presence all day. He'd been looking forward to seeing her again since he'd entered the building that morning. He was shaking.

"There's my big boy," she cooed, wrapping him up in a warm, cocooning hug. "How was your first day of first grade?" she asked cheerfully. Inuyasha seized up.

"Fine," he said briefly, tightening his hold on the woman.

"Look at you," she said, leaning back from their embrace a bit. "Your ponytail came out. You must have been playing hard, hm?" she asked, running gentle fingers through his now unruly nest of hair.

"Yes," he lied. His ears flicked as he heard a word he didn't quite understand from the car behind theirs. His mother didn't appear to hear it, as she still attended to his hair. 'What does 'abomination' mean?' he thought. He wasn't quite sure he _wanted_ to know. The man had said it with…such a mean voice. Surely it was something bad? "Can we go home now?" he asked suddenly. She chuckled lightly, musically and gave him a fond look.

"Of course we can, Sweetheart." She released him and brushed back his silvery bangs, placing a light kiss on his forehead. She opened the back door, ushered him in, and lovingly buckled his seatbelt. She rounded the car and got into the drivers' seat, slowly pulling away from the curb and off of the school grounds. She glanced at her son in the backseat, where he stared listlessly out of the window.

"So…do you want to tell me what you did in school today?"

"No," he said quietly.

"No?" she repeated, animating her voice to sound mock-offended. "Well, why not?"

"I don't know."

"Come on, Inuyasha, Sweetheart. Tell me what you did in school today," she urged. He stared out of the window for a moment or two more before swinging his large, honey-hued eyes to look back at her in the rearview mirror. "You don't want to tell me about your day?"

"No." Izayoi frowned and bit her lip. Now she knew something was wrong. She'd been thinking something was amiss when he clung to her so desperately in the parking lot, but now that she couldn't even get him to share his day with her…she was worried. Inuyasha was normally such an animated, lively child.

"O-okay then," she said hesitantly, resisting the urge to push him more. "You can tell me when you're ready." He was silent the entire ride home.

When they entered the house, Inuyasha immediately trudged up the stairs to his room, and Izayoi listened to his light footsteps pad across the floor above her head, and end with a light slam of the door. She sighed deeply and rubbed her forehead wearily. She could only imagine…what had happened to her baby?

Dinner time rolled around, and Inuyasha was only coerced out of his room by his mother's gentle insistence. Even then, he only sat sullenly at the table, leaning his head heavily against a limp hand and poking at his food absently with a chopstick. Izayoi was caught between pressing him until he finally gave her information, and letting him come to her on his own. She wanted him to go back to normal. Just as she was about to ask him what was wrong, he spoke.

"Mommy?" he began.

"Yes?"

"Does…um…Kami punishes bad boys right?" he asked in an almost silent voice.

"Um…well…yes, I suppose," Izayoi faltered. "Why do you ask that, Sweetie?" she asked, concerned. He shrugged and poked at a piece of his stir fry.

"How long do punish-times last?" he questioned, ignoring her inquiry.

"Well…I don't know, Inuyasha, I suppose it depends on how bad someone is…why do you ask a thing like that?"

"I dunno," he said briefly, and lapsed back into his silence. Izayoi got up from her chair and walked around the table, kneeling next to the boy. She took his chopsticks from him and turned his body around to face her.

"Inuyasha, Honey, I need you to tell me: why would you ask me a question like that?" she said, a bit more forcefully. She was worried. He looked close to tears. "Baby, talk to me, please," she pleaded, holding his small hands in hers. His eyes darted to hers, and then to the floor, then to her face again.

"I think I'm a bad boy," he admitted in a whisper, his expression finally showing the intense worry he'd apparently been harboring.

"What? Why would you think that?" Izayoi asked him.

"Because… 'cause none of the other kids at school like me," he confided, his voice giving way to tremors. "Nobody will play with me at school…Kami punishes bad boys like me…so Kami makes it so nobody else likes me," he said sadly. Izayoi's heart absolutely broke at the obvious hurt her son was experiencing. He was so young— _too_ young to have to deal with things like this…

"Inuyasha…"

"I am bad, right? That's how come they don't like me, right?"

"No, Inuyasha, no. You're not bad, Sweetie, you—"

"Then how come they don't like me? How come they call me names? How come those bigger boys pushed me, Mommy?" he asked, tears choking his voice. He looked at her desperately, searching for answers that she could not bear to give, for fear of taking his innocence sooner than was proper. She couldn't…she couldn't ruin his beautiful mind—couldn't take away that innocence than only children possessed, only to place in its stead the ugly reality with which he would be faced. Not yet. He would have to learn the truth soon enough…but not yet. 'He's only six years old…' she thought sorrowfully. Blinking back tears from her own eyes, Izayoi cupped his cheek gently and attempted a smile.

"Inuyasha…some people…some people treat others differently than what they should. Some people…are strange that way. Sometimes kids act a certain way because…their mommy never told them the proper way to do things. Some children don't have a mommy to tell them how to be kind, and so they don't know any better…you understand?" He thought on this for a moment, and Izayoi could see the wheels in his head turning.

"Yes," he said finally, nodding.

"There's my smart boy," she said fondly, caressing his baby-smooth cheek with the pad of her thumb.

"So…I…I'm not bad? I'm not a bad boy?"

"No, of course not, my Inuyasha. You're good. You are. You're so smart and good," she whispered, and pulled him into her arms, pressing her face into his hair. "So smart and good," she repeated, smoothing the silvery strands. She pulled away from him and took his chin in between her thumb and index finger, and forced him to look into her eyes. "Now you listen to me," she instructed. "I love you. You know that?" He nodded. "Good. I want you to always, _always_ remember that, Inuyasha. No matter what, you always remember that Mommy loves you. With all my heart, you understand that, Sweetie?"

"Yes," he said, and moved to lay his head against her bosom, his arms looped around her neck. "I love you too, Mommy," he whispered.

* * *

Inuyasha remembered being confused later that night as he stood outside of his mother's room. He had thought at first that perhaps she was getting sick and coughing. Upon further surveillance, however, he remembered discovering that she was crying, and so, he'd sought to cheer her up as only a small child can: with lots of hugs and series of questions consisting largely of 'Are you okay, Mommy?'

He had never forgotten that look. It was burned onto the surface of his memory, and for that he was glad: he didn't want it to fade. That fierce, protective, yet loving look she'd given him when she told him to never forget about her love for him. He never had. He'd questioned it many times, mainly during his adolescence and 'trouble period'. He'd questioned it because he felt, at times, that he didn't deserve it. He still, to this day couldn't understand sometimes why the woman had gone through such great lengths for him. When he looked in the mirror, all he could see was the worthless half-breed that everyone coined him as. It had become as much a part of him, he thought, as his painting was. And for the life of him, he couldn't see why the woman had loved him so, why she'd sacrificed so much for him: her pride, her reputation, her friends and family…

He supposed he'd never know. He supposed he'd never have any real explanation to all the questions he had for her; she'd been taken so abruptly. Anything she may have left to him in terms of financial aid or memoirs was forever lost to the system, and he doubted that if there was anything that he'd ever get it. All he really had left of her was the few precious items he kept safely stored and hidden, his memories, and the painting that Kagome held. He glanced over to the girl, who to his surprise, was looking back at him strangely.

"You okay?" she asked gently.

"I'm fine," he muttered. He hated it when she did that. She could always trigger some memory, some pain rooted deep within him, make him relive it in a matter of seconds, and then give him the urge to want to confide in her. 'Well, I'll show you…' he thought. 'I'm not sharing _anything_.'

Kagome looked at him for a few minutes longer, and Inuyasha averted his gaze. She placed the painting carefully back into its slot and resumed her perusal, the hauntingly beautiful image still lingering on her mind, along with Inuyasha's distant, pained expression.

"How'd you find a place like this?" she asked, figuring that now was probably a good time for her to change the subject.

"I dunno," Inuyasha shrugged. "I used to just kind of wander around the city when I was younger; when I wanted to get out of the house. I just kind of stumbled on it one day. Totosai—that was the man downstairs—he pays me to do odd jobs for him: cleaning, moving equipment. Whatever he needs done. It's a pretty good deal. He gets stuff done, I get paid and I get a flat for half the rate."

Kagome was inwardly relieved. At least he was doing something honest; not selling drugs or running the streets as she'd originally thought as she watched the shady looking exchange.

"So…do you want to major in art in college?" she asked, eyeing a particularly frightening yet strangely beautiful portrait of three wolf demons, whose hateful, smug expression seemed to penetrate the very fabric of the canvas.

"Hmph. College. Yeah, right," he snorted derisively. Kagome sighed. He was in one of his moods. There were good days and bad days with Inuyasha. Sometimes it even came down to good and bad hours. There were times when his nice, shy disposition would give way to something darker and snide, and he'd be full of bitter comments. It scared her. Not because she was actually frightened of him, but frightened _for_ him…he seemed so unstable. Kagome didn't pursue the subject.

"Oh…is this…is this your brother?" she asked, pulling out another canvas, this one considerably smaller. Inuyasha flashed a brief glance at the painting and gave a shallow, limp smile.

"Mm-hm. Half," he replied.

"Why didn't you tell me you had a brother?" she asked with a smile.

"Because I don't," he said, puzzling the girl. Kagome frowned.

"But I thought you just said—"

"Well I do have a brother…but then again I don't," he interrupted. He gave her a sidelong look. "As he puts it, 'We are related only in the strictest biological sense of the word,'" Inuyasha quoted from memory the stinging retort. It had been three weeks since his brother had dealt him that blow, and it _still_ made Inuyasha feel dreadful about himself. That was the power of Sesshomaru's jabs to the heart: they stung deep where it counted and lasted for what seemed like _eternity_. He smiled bitterly and picked at the hem of his t-shirt. Kagome still frowned at him, at a loss.

"So he means to say—"

"He hates me," Inuyasha cut in bluntly.

"Inuyasha, I'm sure he doesn't _hate_ you—"

"Oh, and I'm sure he does. He tells me every opportunity he gets…" he trailed off. "He's getting married in a few months…" he said absently, turning his gaze out the window.

"Well, that's great—"

"I'm not invited," Inuyasha cut in, slanting her a look coupled with a sick smile. He shook his head and laughed, a dry, empty, bitter laugh. "He doesn't want _me_ at his wedding."

"Why wouldn't he want you there?"

"Because he's embarrassed," Inuyasha replied simply with a shrug.

"But—"

"You don't get it, do you?" he snapped, turning angry eyes on her.

"Maybe I just don't understand why your own brother wouldn't want you to come to his wedding…I don't get it," she said confusedly.

"Are you dense?" Inuyasha snarled. "Why would any self-respecting demon want anyone to know that he was related to someone like me?"

"Someone like you? What's that supposed to mean?"

"You really are stupid," Inuyasha mumbled, leaning against the wall and folding his arms sulkily. "Perfect, popular, and successful Big Brother Sesshomaru doesn't want any of his snobby business partners and stuck-up friends to know his brother is a stupid half-breed," he muttered. "Can't blame him, though…"

"Inuyasha…" Kagome started sympathetically. It was obvious to her how much he wanted to go. His posture and speech simply screamed yearning. If that weren't enough…he obviously idolized the man. The painting in her hands, highly stylized and colorful, portrayed the older demon in what could only be called an adoring light. Any viewer could see that the subject had obviously been someone the artist looked up to greatly. Her heart absolutely broke for him.

"Things aren't too good at home for you…are they?"

"What would make you think that?" he questioned, his voice sounding rough.

"Well…you never…you never _talk_ about your home…I'm assuming you live with your dad, and you never say anything about him. You never told me you had a brother…so…it just seems like it's not, you know, the best place on earth for you…" Kagome trailed off. She watched him carefully, gauged his reaction. He was tense, agitated and fidgeting.

"Home is where I shower and sleep. That's it," he said, his words clipped. His claws clicked loudly against the sill in measured beats. That lead Kagome to answer her own question, as he'd only gave her a vaguely indirect response. Home _wasn't_ too good for him…that much was apparent. She didn't know what or how or why things were so horrible for him. She couldn't begin to guess, and she surely didn't want to press him, for fear of him shutting her out for good. She could only offer her support and comfort to her newfound friend, and hope that he would be better for her efforts.

Kagome slid the painting back into its place and timidly approached the potentially volatile boy. With shaking hands, she touched his shoulder, at which he immediately stiffened. He didn't brush her off as she had expected him too; he simply didn't look at her. She slid her hand across the warm expanse of his back, up and down in what she hoped was a soothing motion. Inuyasha was practically a ball of tension, not moving a muscle.

"You don't have to always take on the world by yourself, Inuyasha; you're not Superman. Sometimes it's better for us to let other people in…so they can help us," she said softly.

"All the psychoanalysis in the world couldn't help me," he grunted bitterly.

"I'm not talking about psychoanalytic help. I'm talking about a friend. I'm talking about me," she said. "You…you're so tense. All the time, you're tense. Even when you're supposedly having a good time, you're tense. Don't you think…don't you think it'd be better to just let things go? If only for a little while…for sanity's sake?"

He pulled away from her touch and leaned his back against the wall, his expression closed as he regarded her.

"I know what you're gonna say," she said with a smile, holding up a finger. "Kagome, you're deranged,' I know, you say that all the time—"

"Thanks."

Kagome was flummoxed. 'Thanks?' she thought. '_Thanks_?' It was usually times like these, times where he lost it a bit and confided something in her that he didn't want to that he called her sanity into question, and called her crazy, unhinged, or some other synonym. But thanks? _That_ was a change…

"You…you're welcome," she murmured. "And thank you. For…for showing me your place. It…it obviously means a lot to you…you're so talented."

The fond look of appreciation he gave her warmed her heart. He quickly blushed and turned away.

"You really mean that?"

"Of course I do. I don't think I've ever seen such beautiful paintings, Inuyasha. Everyone you've painted must be honored," she reflected.

"So…so if I did you…you wouldn't be mad or anything?" he asked, stammering.

"You…you'd do that? You'd paint me?" she asked, excitement spreading over her face. He shrugged, the pink blush still dusting the bridge of his nose.

"Yeah. Yeah…if you wanted me to…you know. I could, or whatever," he said, trying to sound indifferent, yet failing miserably. His voice was shaking.

"Of _course_ I want you to!" Kagome exclaimed. "I had wanted to ask you, but I didn't want you to turn me down! I'm so excited—should I pose or anything?"

"No, no, nothing like that. I'm not gonna do it while you're here…I work from memory," he told her, smiling at her animation.

"Oh…okay. Well, when will you be done so I can see it?"

"I dunno…takes me a while sometimes," he shrugged. 'Especially when I have such a good subject to work from,' he added silently.

"Well, don't take too long…my pictures of you will be done way before you're done with the painting, I guess…"

"Yeah…"

"So…what's your favorite color today, Inuyasha?" she asked suddenly, strolling over to the drawers on the other side of the room. He followed.

"Hmm…poinsettia-red," he said finally. She shot him a look.

"Figures. I had you pegged for a red kind of guy. What's in here?"

"Finger paint," he answered simply, countering the amused look she gave him with a defensive one of his own.

"Finger paint?"

"What? It's…it's very therapeutic," he argued.

"Really?" she asked, and eyebrow raised.

"You wanna try?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?" she laughed, breaking her skeptic façade. Inuyasha gave her a small smile and set the tub of paints in her hands.

"Don't even _think_ about flinging that stuff," he warned her, seeing the plotting look on her face. She quickly gave him wide eyes and ducked the paint behind her back.

"Who, me? I would never!" she insisted, filling her voice with mock-offense. Inuyasha looked at her disbelievingly. "Okay, okay, maybe I was thinking it…" she admitted, grinning, her nose wrinkling cutely. Inuyasha bit his lip.

He'd decided: she had a good face too.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Hope that wasn't too cheesy. I just wanted to end on a lighter note since everyone's saying this story is so depressing…not that it's gonna be _chipper_. 'Cause it's not. There's lots more angst to come. I just wanted to give at least a tiny reprieve from the sadness, and I didn't want people to become so depressed that they decide that they're sick of this story. Please don't go!

I love Inuyasha and his mom. I think they're so cute. Well, at least I think the _thought_ of them is so cute…not like we ever get to see them interacting…

I think I'm on a roll here with these extra long chapters…that's the only reason it's taking so long to get them out. Plus, this weekend was absolute hell at work…bleh.

Hope you enjoyed! Let me know if you did.

Wowzer313


	12. Flip Out

.seod ihsahakaT okimuR, ahsayunI now t'nod I : remialcsiD

Author's Notes: Man, I almost didn't make it with this chapter this weekend! Whew!

Oh, man, is this chapter loaded with angst. But there's fluff at the end! I hope I redeem myself…

Ya know…if I could draw/paint/sketch…I'd probably draw out what I'm seeing in my head for Inuyasha's paintings…too bad I'm not talented in that area. I'm jealous of my own character. Except that he's not mine! (see remialcsid)

Oh, well. Guess you'll all just have to imagine for yourselves…(big, wistful sigh)

**PLEASE READ! **Okay, so I think this chapter is kind of confusing. You'll soon see what I'm talking about. It's kind of a flashback within a flashback within a flashback…yeah, three flashbacks. I think the key is to read it slow, and then I think you should be able to pick out the flow of it. But I really like this chapter. I hope you do too.

Onward!

**Chapter 12:** Flip Out

"I just can't believe he changed his mind…"

"But you're happy about it, right?"

"…I guess…"

"What do you mean you guess?"

"I dunno…" Inuyasha frowned at the gold gilded invitation. The shiny, pseudo-metallic letters glinted innocently under the light of Kagome's desk lamp. The pair eyed the envelope that sat in the middle of the desk. Kagome made a grab for it.

"I wanna read it," she proclaimed. She flipped the envelope open and slid the soft ivory paper from its covering, turning it over in her hands. "Mr. Inutaisho Shibasawa and Ms. Mitsu Shibasawa and Mr. Hiroshi Ayabito and Mrs. Yori Ayabito request the pleasure of your company at the marriage of Sesshomaru Shibasawa and Kagura Ayabito…" Kagome read on. Inuyasha closed his eyes and recited silently along with her the words he'd already read two dozen times, only to make sure he wasn't imagining things. "…on blah, blah, blah, date, at five o'clock in the evening, at the Sakura Springs Luxury Resort…whoa. Fancy place," Kagome said, impressed.

"Only the best for Sesshomaru," Inuyasha muttered.

"So…you're gonna go, right?"

"…I…I don't know…"

"Inuyasha! You've been wanting to go for _weeks_! And aren't you always talking about how you want Sesshomaru to like you? Well…here you've at least got a shot…" she pointed out. Inuyasha sighed.

"Yeah, but…why'd he invite me in the first place?"

"Did you ask him?"

"Yeah."

"What did he say?"

"Well…nothing, really…I mean, it wasn't really much of a response…" he reflected, frowning at the back of his hands. His mind drifted back to the night before, when he'd arrived at home after leaving Kagome's house.

After weathering his father's cursing spiel about how much his cleaning skills left to be desired, Inuyasha dragged himself up to his room, hefting his book bag along. Sesshomaru's refined voice droned on about wedding details from his room, apparently on the phone with someone.

He'd almost tossed his bag on top of it. In fact, he'd been holding the straps of the bag, in mid swing to fling it onto the mattress as he always did.

The golden foil winked in the light as he flicked the switch, and Inuyasha's eyes bugged. Yanking the bag down out of mid air and dropping it to the ground, he rushed to the bed and ripped the envelope open with no small amount of enthusiasm.

He held his breath and his heart beat quickened as he read the elegant calligraphy, once, twice, three times, and again.

He bolted out of the room, card and envelope in hand, and burst into his older brother's room without preamble. The older demon glared at him, the sleek black cell phone held against his ear. Inuyasha found that he didn't quite care _who_ was on the phone in that moment—he needed answers.

"Sesshomaru!" he said in a harsh whisper. The man gave an exasperated sigh along with a dramatic roll of his eyes.

"Jaken. I'm going to have to call you back…no, I'm not taking you out of the wedding march…I simply have something to…take care of. Yes. Okay. Goodbye," he concluded his phone conversation, and pressed the 'end' button with a single, graceful digit. "What is it, Inuyasha?" he finally asked, his tone annoyed.

The boy lost his words. He opened and closed his mouth, nothing but silence coming forth. He wordlessly held up the invitation with a shaking hand, giving his older brother a questioning look.

"I…you…you just…I mean—why did you…" he stammered, his voice low. Sesshomaru heaved a great sigh and rubbed the pointer and middle fingers of both hands in small circles against his temples.

"Do you have something meaningful to say?" Sesshomaru snapped, annoyed with his halting speech. Inuyasha took a deep breath and collected himself.

"I just…you're inviting me?" he asked finally. Sesshomaru gave him a barely-tolerant look.

"Well, that is usually the conclusion most people would derive from the obtaining of an invitation," Sesshomaru said swiftly. He stood up from the desk chair and meticulously smoothed the light material of his dress slacks. Inuyasha blushed at his blunder.

"Oh, yeah, right," he agreed hastily. He stepped closer to the man as he opened his expensive-looking briefcase and commenced to flip through carefully organized stacks of file folders. "I was only wondering…why?" Inuyasha asked. Sesshomaru didn't answer. "Why did you invite me? I mean…what made you change your mind?" he questioned.

Sesshomaru didn't answer for a long time. "Will you be joining us or not? Believe me, it would not be objected to if you should feel so inclined to deny to attend."

"No, no, I want to come!" Inuyasha insisted, tightening his grip on the smooth paper, as if he were afraid the elder demon would snatch it away. "Um…hey, Sesshomaru…" The man paused his shuffling, waiting for the boy to continue. "Just…thanks. A lot. I mean, it really means a lot that you're inviting me, and I—"

"Your gratitude is as unnecessary as it is misplaced," Sesshomaru stated. "Now if you don't mind, or even if you do, I have very important matters to attend to," he said swiftly, motioning to the paper work he'd spread out on the desk. Inuyasha got the not-so-subtle hint.

"Oh, yeah, right! Right, sorry. I'll go," he said, back pedaling out of the door he'd flung open. "Thank you, Sess," he said one more time before he left, closing the door behind him.

He'd been positive that he wanted to go. There had been absolutely no doubt in his mind. As soon as he could, he'd even escaped to his flat to work on Sesshomaru's wedding gift. But as the wedding drew near, and his father's house became a port to caterers, florists, and photographers hurrying to make last minute changes and preparations, as Kagura, Sesshomaru's eerily pretty fiancée came to meet their father, as family members converged to a nearby hotel to be ready for the humongous event…Inuyasha wasn't so sure.

"What if you go with me?" he uttered the question without thinking. Kagome blinked in surprise.

"Go _with_ you?" she parroted. "Inuyasha, I can't, I wasn't invited."

"Yeah, but…you can bring guests to these kinds of things, right?"

"Well…sure, I guess you can…but…do you really think that's a good idea?" she asked, frowning a bit at the pretty card.

"Yeah. Why wouldn't it be?" he insisted.

"Inuyasha…" Kagome started, trying to formulate a way to turn his invitation down without hurting his fragile feelings. "From what you've told me, and I'm going strictly on that, your brother seems kind of…well…severe. Do you know what I mean? He seems like the type who wants everything just so. He seems like he wants everything planned perfectly, down to the last minute detail, and I get the feeling that if anyone showed up that wasn't invited by him or his fiancée personally….I think he just might throw a fit," Kagome finished, a thoughtful look on her face.

"But…but I don't _wanna_ go if you don't go," he griped petulantly, his mouth pulling into a small frown. He crossed his arms on top of the desk. "I don't want to go by myself."

"You won't be by yourself," Kagome said brightly. He gave her a doubtful look. She hurried to explain. "Your family will be there: cousins, aunts, uncles. Everyone, right?"

"I don't know them. I've never met them before…" he muttered sulkily, resting his chin on top of his crossed wrists. Kagome stifled her smile. He looked like a pouting six-year old.

"You're worried they won't like you," she assumed.

"…Maybe. It's not like it's that farfetched of an idea," he mumbled. She was quiet a moment before brightening and giving him a small smile.

"I think you'll have fun," she chirped. He shot her a disbelieving look. "I do! I think you'll have fun, and what's more, I think you'll say to yourself 'What was I thinking, considering not going?'. That's what I think," she said with finality.

"I think you're weird," he shot back. "Come on…come with me, please?" Kagome melted. How often did Inuyasha say please?

"I can't. I can't go without an invitation, Inuyasha," she stood her ground. He thought for a moment.

"I'll ask him to give you one," he suggested.

"No way! Inuyasha, you barely got an invitation yourself. How are you gonna _me_ one?" she blurted. The grimace on his face told her she'd said something out of line, and she kicked herself for it. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "That wasn't right…I'm sorry"

" 'S okay. You're right," he admitted sullenly.

"I just meant to say…I don't think I'd fit in very well there."

"Kagome, _I_ don't fit in very well there," he pointed out with a derisive snort.

"Better than me," she said. She grabbed one of his hands from underneath his head. "Inuyasha, go. Okay? Go. I think you'll have fun. I mean, why else would Sesshomaru invite you if he didn't want you there, hm? So go. Have fun. Drink sparkling cider. Eat fancy, overpriced food. Dance with pretty girls," she told him with a wry smile. He gave her a doubtful look at that last instruction. "I bet you won't even miss me," she said, sure of herself.

Inuyasha sighed. She was wrong. He'd miss her. Of course, he'd rather die than tell her that.

"Fine."

The rays of the evening sun shone warmly down on the picturesque garden of Sakura Springs Luxury Resort. Water rushing from the man-made waterfall, the distant chirping of cicadas, and classy violin music made for pleasant background noise as various species of demon, of varying degrees of importance in Sesshomaru's circles milled and mingled. The large white canopy, housing the buffet of, as Kagome said, fancy, overpriced food, swayed gracefully in the cool breeze.

Inuyasha tugged absently at the tie that felt too tight around his neck, no matter how many times he loosened it. He felt horribly out of place, and he had no doubt that he _looked _out of place as well. He knew that at least ninety percent of the people there had his scent, and he knew that it, too, was out of place. He'd known he'd be uncomfortable…he just hadn't been prepared in the least to say how much.

The ceremony had been beautiful: tastefully done and classy. It was everything that Sesshomaru was, and everything that his new bride appeared to be as well. Inuyasha had watched them exchange vows and rings from the last row of seats where he'd been relegated to sit alone. He wasn't upset about it, though. There hadn't been enough room in the front row with the family of the groom, with his father, Sesshomaru's mother, and a few of his friends there instead. Inuyasha understood, and dutifully sat where he was told. He was just happy that Sesshomaru was speaking to him at his wedding.

His chest had puffed up as Sesshomaru spoke his vows, tall and regal, in his commanding, deep voice. His new bride, anything but blushing and shy, was a vision in her sleek, champagne-colored gown, which she'd later bragged was 'of the highest-end couture', dark hair piled atop her head with small flower adornments. In a moment of pride, Inuyasha felt the urge to announce, "Hey, look at _my_ brother!"

The reception began soon thereafter, the small orchestra, a quartet of aphid demons with six arms each, played pieces that would have taken a full orchestra of humans to pull off.

Inuyasha had stood awkwardly at the end of the receiving line, wondering how to strike up a conversation with the young girl in front of him, who looked to be about his age. He knew she was one of his cousins, a daughter of his father's older brother. He didn't, however, know her name or anything else, for that matter. He was just about to ask her when she whirled around, white curls bouncing from the disturbance.

"Don't even _think_ about it," she hissed maliciously. Inuyasha's jaw snapped shut.

"I…I was only gonna ask your na—"

"I said, don't even _think_ about it, half-breed," she sneered. She stormed off, wisteria-colored dress flouncing around her calves as she moved a few places ahead in line, striking up a conversation, undoubtedly about him, with another young man. Inuyasha trained his eyes at the floor. He didn't dare attempt to talk to the severe-looking old coyote demon that now stood in front of him.

He waited, the receiving line moving slowly but steadily out the doors of the wedding hall and into the garden where the reception was already underway.

"Yama," Sesshomaru greeted the old man. "Thank you so much for coming."

"The pleasure's all mind, Sesshomaru. Congratulations to you, and your beautiful bride," the man answered graciously. With that, the entire wedding party moved outside, abruptly leaving Inuyasha as the last attendee in the hall. He blinked in surprise as the door slammed shut, his hand halfway extended to shake hands with Kagura's father. Very slowly, he allowed his arm to fall back to his side as he absorbed what had just happened.

"That's alright," he whispered to himself. "They're just…they're probably just eager to get to their party. Yeah, that's it. They don't want to miss too much of their reception," he reasoned quietly as he pushed open the door.

He wandered aimlessly for a bit, clutching the straps of the large, black canvas bag he'd brought with him, before slinging the bag's long strap around his shoulders, and finally deciding to get himself a plate. Was it just him, or were the caterers all staring at him? Was it his imagination, or were they whispering? Inuyasha moved dully through the line, muttering only a small 'thanks' to the last demon who spooned food onto his plate.

"Well, look what we have here," said a woman's voice, high and nasally. A smoker's voice. "If it isn't the spawn of that home-wrecking, whore of a human."

Inuyasha froze, his plate held in both hands. He embarrassedly moved to the side when he realized he was blocking the way of other guests who had come back for seconds. What was he supposed to say to her?

"Don't you remember who I am?" she pressed, taking a long sip from the wine glass she held. Inuyasha nodded mutely. He'd only met her once before—if it could be called a 'meeting'—and he'd never forget her. Sesshomaru's mother.

"How _is_ your mother, anyway?" she hummed. "Oh! That's right. She's dead. Gone. Hmph. Serves her right," the vindictive woman spat, her refined face twisted into a snarl. Her golden eyes appraised him. "Hm. Imagine. A half-breed. Here, of all places." She growled low in her throat, an action which surprised Inuyasha, though it shouldn't have. He'd heard her do it before. "Why are you even _here_," she sneered, not so much a question, before she became the second woman that evening to storm away from him. Inuyasha grabbed the first flute of sparkling cider that presented itself, and hurried to find a table, to get away from the several pairs of eyes and ears that had played witness to the scene.

The first time he'd ever met Sesshomaru's mother had been relatively soon after he'd moved into his father's home. Sesshomaru would commute, taking himself back and for the between his divorced parents' homes. However, this particular weekend, for reasons Inuyasha could not remember, Mitsu Shibasawa had come to pick up her son. And with her, she brought years of apparent bitterness.

* * *

Inuyasha had been cleaning up the puddle of grape juice he'd spilled in the dining room when the flurry of knocks assaulted the door. He listened as his father went to answer it, still sopping up the mess with the towel that had already been died purple.

"Mitsu," his father breathed.

"Inutaishou," the woman responded coldly, and Inuyasha remembered thinking how much Sesshomaru sounded like her.

"He's getting ready to come down," the man said tiredly. Inuyasha peeked around the corner, yearning to get a glimpse of the woman who had birthed the brother he so admired. She didn't disappoint. Inuyasha could see where Sesshomaru had gotten his other-worldly appearance, his poise. The woman stood tall, tapping a high-heeled foot impatiently, her silver locks hung in a sleek, trendy hair cut, hitting just under her jaw in an angled bob. Her skin looked deathly pale in contrast to the blood red suit she wore, to match her crimson-painted claws. She looked deadly, and Inuyasha was frightened by her. She eyed his father coldly.

"This place reeks, Tai," she said contemptuously.

"I don't think I asked you, Mitsu," the man said with barely managed patience.

"I simply thought I'd let you know. But then again…you're right; you probably don't need my nose to tell you that the house smells of whores."

"There's no need for maliciousness."

"The hell there isn't!" she sneered. "Don't you tell me that—don't you _dare_ tell me that, you bastard." Her voice was frightening, clipped and harsh.

"It's been nine _years_, Mitsu. Don't you think you're taking this to the extreme?" A tremendous growl ripped from her chest.

"I _know_ I'm taking it to the extreme! I _want_ to take it to the damned extreme, Tai! What you did to me…to Sesshomaru, to this _family_! It's inexcusable. And no, I will _never_ let you live it down, and I will _never_ let you forget it. Not _ever_." Inutaisho growled.

"Let it _go_! What's done is done!"

"I hope you see this!" she exclaimed, red-painted claws flailing with her hands as she motioned to herself. "I hope you see all that you gave up for some human _slut_!" Inuyasha flinched. Human…the only human he knew they could be speaking of was his own mother…his heart clenched, and he felt his eyes prick.

"I don't need for you to put me on a guilt trip, Bitch!" the demon growled, eyes flickering red for a brief moment. He stormed towards her. "I didn't need it then, I don't need it now! Maybe if you were a little less of a frigid _bitch_, I wouldn't have gone in search of what I could get elsewhere!"

"Don't. You. _Dare_! Don't you dare say those kinds of things to me—not when you go and fuck some _human_! How low could you have gone, hm? How low?" she shouted, her voice escalating in volume with every word. "To the lowest, I suppose! I hope _that thing_ you've spawned—" she flung a finger in Inuyasha's direction "was worth it!"

Sesshomaru, holding a suitcase and an open book, glided past the spot where Inuyasha crouched. He didn't look up as he walked nonchalantly between the two raging dog demons.

"Mother, Father, honestly. Must you two bicker like children?" he asked dully, and continued out the door. "Come, now, I'm ready to leave," the teen called from outside. His words seemed to have done the trick, and his mother's expression smoothed out. She gently patted her hair, as though afraid it had gotten out of place during her tirade. She cleared her throat.

"Coming, Angel," she responded, her voice attempting to be light and sweet. She shot Inuyasha a contemptuous look, and the boy ducked back around corner, heart racing. He resumed his cleaning with shaking hands.

'Home wrecker?' he thought. The word knocked around his skull ominously. He could figure out what that meant easily enough. It most certainly wasn't good. But his mother? A home wrecker? Someone who had come between a husband and his wife and son? Impossible. There had to be some kind of mistake. Yes, Sesshomaru had told him on numerous occasions that he was the reason his own family was in shambles—but Inuyasha had assumed that it was because he was only half demon, and therefore, beneath the rest of them for some reason he couldn't identify. There was no way that his mother could be that cruel—she loved his father, he could tell she did!

* * *

"Mommy, why don't _I_ have a daddy?" Inuyasha asked suddenly one lazy Sunday afternoon. Had he been turned to face the woman, he would have seen the shock and franticness that crossed his mother's face.

"Um…er…I, uh…why do you ask that, Sweetheart?" she stammered, buying herself time. She had known this day would come. Dreaded it, but known it would come. The day her baby finally asked the question about that hole in his life. There was no way she could avoid it—if she did now, he'd only ask more later, and perhaps be angry with her for her delay. Her eight year old turned to face her, peering up at her from the floor, a thoughtful look on his face.

"Well, all the other kids at school have daddies," he pointed out. "And they say there's somethin' wrong with me, because I don't have one. How come?" he asked curiously.

"Inuyasha, Honey, you have a dad," she said. He frowned.

"How come I never see him? How come I never met him?"

Izayoi steeled her courage, and prayed to Kami to forgive her for what she was about to do.

"Your daddy's in the army," she'd told him softly. Inuyasha's large golden eyes widened even further at that piece of information.

"The _army_?" he asked in a wonder-filled whisper. She nodded, feeling the horrible guilt bearing down on her even as she spoke.

"Mm-hm. The Japanese Army."

"Wow…what does he do in the army?" Inuyasha asked, scooting closer to his mother's knees where she sat on the couch. He was rapt with attention.

"Well…he, um…he's…an officer! Yes, he's an officer in the army. A general, actually," she added, embellishing the lie.

"Really? Cool!" Inuyasha exclaimed, a smile lighting his innocent face. "Does he have to save people?"

"Why, of course he does. What else would a general do in the army? He saves people all the time. Whenever there's an emergency that the human army can't handle, they call in your father's own demon platoon, and they go out and solve it," she told him, saddening as his face lit up with excitement and admiration.

"My dad's cool!" he said happily. "I can't wait to tell Jinenji! And I'm gonna tell all the other kids at school, 'cause they don't think I have a dad and they were teasing me. But they can't tease me anymore!" he told her, his eyes shining. He suddenly turned serious. "Mom?"

"Yes, Sweetheart?"

"Do you think he'll ever come and visit me?"

"I…I don't know, Baby," Izayoi admitted hesitantly.

"Oh…well…can't we call him on the telephone?"

"We could…only…well, it's difficult to get phone calls to people in the army, since they travel so much. They travel all over," she lied, cursing herself. Inuyasha thought on this.

"He's very busy, isn't he?"

"Yes he is. Very, very busy," she agreed, nodding.

"But he's really cool, right? He's awesome, huh, Mom?"

"Yes, Honey. He's awesome. He's an amazing man," she murmured, smoothing his hair affectionately, smiling wistfully at her son.

She had believed it, at one time. She had believed that Inutaishou was an amazing man. And, she supposed, he had been. He'd been everything her young heart could ask for in a man: strong, passionate, mannerly, intelligent, and devastatingly handsome. He was everything that mattered, and she didn't care than her family disapproved so strongly against their relationship that stretched for two years. She loved him, he loved her, and that was all that mattered. She felt, foolishly at times, that they were the only two people in the world. She didn't know, that during that magical two years he had an entire established family in the wings.

The day he'd broken the news to her would never leave her memory, because it was also the day she'd dropped a bomb on him as well: a bomb that she hoped would get her what she'd been yearning for for the past few months—a ring and a proposal.

* * *

"Tai…" she began. She was nervous. It wasn't as though it had happened on purpose. It was a pure accident. Yes, she wanted him to be her husband. Yes, she wanted their affair to become official, plain for all the world to see. But she hadn't wanted to trap him into it. That hadn't been her intent at all. But…since it had happened…it wasn't too bad to hope for something more out of it…was it?"

"Hm?" he asked lazily, briefly breaking the trail of lazy kisses he'd been planting down the column of her neck as they lay reclined side by side on her couch, watching an action movie that had become unimportant hours ago when he'd initiated their lovemaking.

"I have something to tell you," she said uncomfortably.

"What is it?"

"You…you might be mad." His kisses stopped.

"Are you sleeping with someone else?" he asked, anger seeping the tiniest amount into his deep voice.

"No, no, no, nothing like that!" she exclaimed, hurrying to placate him. "You know you're the only one for me. This only involves me and you," she assured him.

"Oh. Good."

"Well…maybe it involves one other person," she winced. His rich golden eyes grew suspicious as he looked at her.

"Who?" he demanded.

"Just one person," she said quickly, not really answering his question. "Just one…tiny person. One really, _really_ tiny person…that might look like…you…and me…" she trailed off, toying with the nail of her pinky finger. His handsome face turned stony, and in his eyes, caution and wariness joined suspicion.

"Izayoi," he began slowly. "Say what you're trying to say in plain Japanese. No screwing around and playing word games."

"I'm saying…that…oh, don't _make_ me say it, Tai! You know what I'm getting at!" she exclaimed frustrated. Her heart almost broke when he pushed away from her to sit on the opposite end of the couch. He buried his face in his hands, a low groan escaping his lips. She sat up.

"This can't be happening," he whispered. Izayoi's heart dropped at his words. This wasn't going the way she'd hoped.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, unsure why. It was just as much his fault as it was hers.

"No," he said. He removed his hands from his face, staring intensely at the ground. "_No!_" he barked out, startling her.

"Tai, what—"

"_No! _This can't happen! You've got to be wrong. Dammit, Izayoi, I thought you were _handling_ this!" he shouted.

"Me?"

"Yes, _you_! Aren't you on the fucking pills?"

"Of course I am!"

"Then how the hell did this happen, hm?" Realization dawned on his face. "You did this…you did this on purpose, didn't you?"

"What are you _talking_ about?"

"You manipulative _bitch_!" he bellowed, throwing an accusatory glare at her. "You skipped a day, didn't you? You skipped a day on purpose to do this to me! To trap me!" he yelled. Izayoi was beginning to get mad herself, now.

"I can't _believe_ you would _dare_ to think that low of me!" she said hotly. "Of _course_ I didn't skip a day. I wouldn't _do _that to you!"

"Then how are you…? How can you be…?" He seemed unable to say the word 'pregnant'.

"I don't know! Not every contraceptive method is one hundred percent effective, Tai! I took the pills, you wore a condom every time. It's an accident! Sometimes you hit a home run!" she shouted. The alienated, sorrowful look on his face stemmed her volume.

"But you can't…" he moaned. She moved closer to comfort him.

"It won't be that bad, will it?" she asked, tracing the lines on his cheekbones. "It won't be horrible…having a baby with me. Will it?"

"Having a—? Wait, no. No, Izayoi…you can't have it," he said, shaking his head and frowning.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Just what it sounds like: you can't actually go and give bir—Look. You…you've just got to get rid of it, alright?" Her eyes flew open wide and her nostrils flared.

"Get…get _rid_ of it? Are you out of your mind?"

"No, I'm no—"

"There is no way in _hell_ that I would—"

"You have to!" he insisted.

"_No_!" she screamed, clasping her arms around her stomach as if he were prepared to reach into her womb and tear out the embryo himself. He looked angry enough.

"Izayoi! Fuck!" he bellowed.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" she yelled, furious. "If you don't my baby, then fine! You don't ever have to be in his or her life!"

"Don't ever think that I want anything other than just that!"

"Why not?" she cried, hysterical. Her eyes began to well with tears. His rejection stung like the dickens. "Why? Why don't you want my baby? Me?" His expression turned sorrowful once more at her tears, a deep sigh pulling from him. "Why don't you want us? What did I do wrong?" she whispered. Her tears only increased when he began to pull on his boxers, then his jeans, and began searching for his shirt.

"You can't even answer me? You can't even give me a reason?" she pleaded. Inutaishou looked at her sadly. He reached into his pocket, fumbled there for a moment before pulling out a small object, and he laid his palm flat for her to see. Leaning forward, Izayoi saw the ring of bright gold, winking in the dimmed light. Common sense told her that the ring was too large and masculine to be intended for a woman…for her. She withered on the inside.

"You're married," she stated, her voice void of any emotion, no tremor or shake to match her face. He sighed, rubbed a hand over his face before replacing the ring on the fourth finger of his left hand.

"I…I've got a kid. A boy…" he said, adding details that she had no desire to know. The newfound guilt wasted no time in gnawing at her. She'd been sleeping with a married father for two years now…she was carrying his child. She was 'the other woman'. "Now you see…why you've got to get rid of it. It…it'll ruin my marriage," he said, almost beseeching. Izayoi fixed him with a stony glare, the tears running down her cheeks in full force.

"No…no, Tai…my baby didn't ruin your marriage. And even though feel guilty, _I_ didn't ruin your marriage either. _You_ ruined your marriage. You and you alone," she said coldly. She wanted him out. She never wanted to see him again.

"Yes, alright, it was me. Me, me, me, I was greedy, I was selfish, I was an asshole. But that won't make it any better!" he said, motioning to her stomach. "That will make things worse."

"Then I guess you'll just have to deal with the consequences of your actions, because there's no way that I'm getting rid of my baby," she said calmly, even as her sorrow bubbled over so that he could see it. A tear ran under her chin where it fell and left a trail of salt down her chest.

"Izayoi, you _have_ to get rid of it! There is no negotiation about this—"

"You're right. There is no negotiation, because I'm keeping the baby—"

"I'll handle it myself," he grumbled, obviously not intending for her to hear. Her mouth fell open.

"How? How would you handle it yourself? You would hit me? You would force me to miscarry?" she sent the flurry of questions shooting at him. "How did I ever manage to fall in love with you?" she whispered, asking more herself than him.

"It would be a half breed, Izayoi! Nothing more! No one would want it—"

"_I_ want him!" she shouted. Inutaishou regarded her for a tense moment. He spied his shirt out of the corner of his eye, and, retrieving it, shrugged it on.

"Don't expect any help from me. Raising it, paying for it—nothing. I don't want any involvement. You won't get my help," he told her coldly.

"I didn't ask for it," she spat. She hated him. It was as though the blissful two years spent with a charming, prince of a man had disappeared in a matter of minutes, and in his place, stood the ugly, malicious, shell of a man, whom she wanted nothing to do with. She wished she could punch him.

"Fine," he said simply. And he was gone.

Izayoi couldn't' remember how long she spent, crying over him. She couldn't remember how long she spent crying for her baby, who would grow up without a father. She couldn't remember anything of her thoughts after Inutaishou had left, except for the promise she made to the tiny embryo in her womb.

"You'll always have me."

* * *

Inuyasha could tell: his mother had loved his father deeply. It was plain to see in her eyes, whenever she would tell him stories about the man, how she would light up, yet remain sad, as though she missed him.

His mother had been one of the kindest, sweetest women in the world. There was no way he'd believe that she'd torn his older brother's family apart.

* * *

Inuyasha ran a finger around the rim of the crystal wine flute that held only a bit of sparkling cider, his seventh glass. He considered going back for his eighth, until he saw a certain woman idly chatting with her date near the drink table. He decided he could wait. He didn't want to have another run in with her. Who knew what she'd say this time to get his memory dredging up painful things?

Inuyasha's gaze drifted over the many people in attendance, until he stopped at the head table. Sesshomaru was alone! Now was his chance. He downed the rest of his drink, and picked up his bag, crossing the perfectly manicured lawn scattered with tables and chairs, skirting around the dance floor, and edging behind the head table where his brother sat. He was watching Kagura from his seat as she danced with Jaken, the short toad demon that had been his best man. Personally, Inuyasha had been a bit disappointed. He'd hoped that on some off chance, his brother might have chosen _him_ to be his best man. Not so.

Sesshomaru watched his new bride with an amused expression as she grimaced at him over the toad's head. Inuyasha sat in the chair next to his brother.

"Hey, Sess," he began, fiddling with the straps. The smile melted off the older demon's face, brow wrinkled, almost imperceptibly.

"What is it, Inuyasha?" he asked, that annoyed tone lacing his voice.

"I, um…are you having a good time?" he asked a timid smile. Sesshomaru frowned.

"Of _course_ I'm having a good time. It's my wedding," he said condescendingly. "Did you need something? Other than, of course, to bother me?" Inuyasha winced.

"N-no…I just wanted to give you this," he said, presenting the large bag. "For your wedding present. It's for you and Kagura. To say congratulations and good luck," he explained, smiling briefly at the gift. He was particularly proud of this piece. Kagome's strong approval and encouragement had given him the guts he needed to attempt something like this.

"Mm," Sesshomaru murmured absently, still watching the dance floor as he accepted the gift, and promptly set it down behind his chair, carelessly leaning against a tent post. Inuyasha's heart sunk.

"A-a-aren't you gonna open it?" he asked.

"Later," Sesshomaru said briefly. Inuyasha sat still for a moment, unsure of how to proceed from here: whether he should leave or stay and try to carry out a conversation. "You may go now," Sesshomaru added after a moment. Inuyasha took his dismissal and hastened away.

He wandered slowly back to his own empty table, stopping briefly to get another flute of sparkling cider, passing the various groups of family members that he overheard gossiping about him. The girl who had earlier shunned him made a crude joke, and he bit his lip, and pretended as though he didn't hear. He'd just reached his chair when the microphone came on. It was time for the speeches.

Most of them were boring, hackneyed, and melodramatic. Jaken, the strange, obsequious toad that constantly followed Sesshomaru, spent a good fifteen minutes paying him homage worthy of a king. Next, Kanna, Kagura's younger sister, who was also the maid of honor, gave a short, bland, emotionless speech congratulating the couple and wishing them happiness. His father was next, followed by Sesshomaru's mother, and then Kagura's parents. After Kagura made her speech thanking her bridesmaids and maid of honor for all of their help. Sesshomaru went last—undoubtedly because everyone knew that he would give the best speech, the one most worth listening too.

"Thank you all for coming here today. It means so much to Kagura and I that you would take the time out of your busy schedules to honor us," he began, graciously thanking all in attendance. He went on to talk of how he and Kagura met, entertaining all present with his dry humor. He gave all of the credit to Jaken for helping them meet, which no doubt gave the little sycophant a complex. And then he proceeded to deal Inuyasha a blow that because it was public, hurt him more than any insult he'd ever received from the elder demon.

"…Yes, Jaken, thank you for being the catalyst for my meeting with the love of my life. If it weren't for you, none of us would be here right now. I owe you for all that you do. You are almost like the worshipping, fawning little brother I never had," he chuckled. The audience chuckled. The orchestra chuckled. Inuyasha felt as though his stomach had shriveled up.

"But _I'm_ your brother," he whispered to no one. "Why are you here?" he asked himself, his voice cracking. He found he could no longer answer that question. He stood.

As inconspicuously as possible, Inuyasha snuck towards the door that would lead him into the wedding hall, and then out of the resort. He took one last glance at the happy couple, smiling and laughing, looking out into their sea of adoring guests. 'Like fucking royalty,' he thought bitterly. He saw his bag. It had fallen off of the little raised platform where the head table was, behind the stage, forgotten. Not caring if anyone saw him, he eased behind the little stage and grabbed it, clenching his teeth when he saw the various particles of food and punch that had been spilled on it. Tucking it securely under his arm, he eased from behind the stage, flung the doors of wedding hall open, exited the grounds of resort, and ran as fast as he could to his flat.

* * *

Inuyasha stood staring at the likeness he'd created of the wonder couple as it sat innocently on his easel. He'd been so proud of it. He'd worked so hard on it. He'd used his best paints, his best brushes, trying to make it up to Sesshomaru's standards. It wasn't enough. It was never enough. It would never _be_ enough.

The yellows and oranges blended beautifully to create an imaginary sunset he'd envisioned. They stood, on a precipice of some sort, embracing from the side, staring idyllically out into the sea.

He hated it. He'd bury it behind his other pieces so that he'd never have to see it again.

He was done.

"Fuck you, Sesshomaru," he whispered bitterly, clenching his hands into fists. "Fuck you, fuck you, _fuck you_," he repeated. He'd never said that before. Never 'Fuck you' and 'Sesshomaru' in the same sentence. But now…it felt so good to say. And he couldn't seem to stop. He screamed it. He screamed it at the portrait. He hoped the real Sesshomaru heard it.

He was trembling. He felt like he was going to fall apart. He ran a hand through his hair, pushing his bangs away from his forehead. He angrily ripped out the elastic that bound his hair into a ponytail. He yanked the knot out of the constricting tie and let the ends hang loose around his neck. He wanted to fling paint at the walls. But he didn't. He wanted to break something. But he didn't.

Kagome. He needed to see Kagome.

He turned to go, about to flick the lights out in his flat, when the bright colors of the accursed portrait caught his eye once more.

On an impulse, he rushed across the room and slashed it with his claws, ripping three long gashes in the canvas. The picture rocked on it's wooden supports. That wasn't enough. He slashed it again in the other direction. The fabric caved into the wooden frame, hanging limply. Inuyasha picked up the frame and hurled it at the wall, smashing the planks. He picked up the pieces that were large enough and snapped the in half, over and over. Those that weren't large enough, he crushed them in his fists and turned them into sawdust.

It was the first time he'd ever destroyed one of his paintings.

It was stupid, childish, and completely unhinged behavior, and he knew it.

But it made him feel better.

* * *

Kagome was startled at the sudden tapping on her window, and she almost screamed when she saw the hulking figure of a man in the tree outside. But she stopped her panic, and concern quickly replaced it when she recognized Inuyasha. She quickly threw the window open, the cool night air rushing in. She shivered.

"Inuyasha! What are you _doing_ out there? Up here?" she asked, shocked. He gave her an uncertain look, fingers gripping the branch to which he clung.

"Can I come in?" he whispered.

"Yeah, yeah, sure," she said quickly, stepping aside so he could hop the foot long gap into her room. Now that she could see him properly, she was worried. He was simply a ball of tense muscle, and he was fidgeting like crazy.

"Are…are you okay?" she asked, closing the window. "You're so tense, it's tangible. And," she added, looking at the clock, "You're early. The reception isn't over yet, is it?" He shook his head, no. She eyed him, took in his pale, weary expression, the way seemed tired, even through his tenseness. "You didn't have a good time, did you?" she asked quietly. His eyes met hers, and they seemed to plead with her as his lips pressed tightly into a firm line. He shook his head again, and Kagome hurt for him. He looked so…dejected. "What happened?"

"What _didn't_ happen would be an easier question to answer," he grunted. "I shouldn't have gone," he whispered. Kagome motioned for him to sit on her bed beside her, and he complied, plopping his weight down and making springs groan in protest.

"You can talk about it…if you want to," she suggested, not wanting to push too hard. She didn't have too. He gushed information like a spring.

"I got the door slammed in my fucking face, I got shunned, I got pushed to the back of the fucking hall, I got made fun of, I got abandoned, I practically got cursed out, and then, to top it all off, I got disowned," he spewed, his face a fierce frown as he stared at the opposite wall. "In front of over two hundred people. I got disowned."

Kagome couldn't begin to imagine what that meant.

"He just…stood up there, all high and mighty, and just _disowned_ me, Kagome! No, worse! He's got this friend, see? This little toady friend who follows him around like his servant, and you know what he said? Do you know what he said?" he asked her, looking at her hysterically.

"No, I don't know what he said," she answered calmly. It was clear he was having a bit of a breakdown.

"He said that _he_ was like the little brother he never had. _Him! _Jaken! His little brother!" he exclaimed, a wild look in his eye. "Kagome…_I'm_ his little brother," he whispered heartbrokenly. Kagome didn't know what to say, what to do. He sighed. "He didn't want my gift," he murmured hollowly.

"He didn't?"

"Nope. He wouldn't even look at it." Inuyasha toyed with a lock of his hair, tugging it harder than Kagome thought was really necessary. "I ripped it up," he said, as if he were remembering that fact for the first time. He frowned. "I've never done that before. I've never ripped up my paintings," he admitted.

"So that's when you left early?" she asked.

"Yeah. I left, then I went to the flat, and I ripped it up. Then I came here. I'm sorry, were you busy?" he asked as an afterthought.

"No, I wasn't doing anything," she assured him, and he looked relieved.

"Good. I…I wouldn't want to barge in another place where I'm not wanted," he said in a low voice. Kagome wanted to wrap her arms around him. She wanted to take him in her arms and shield him from all the hurt he'd obviously experienced so much of that day. But she didn't want to frighten him. She settled for running what she hoped was a soothing hand through his long hair. She must have been spot on, because he stopped tugging on the lock he held, letting it drop, and he hesitantly leaned into her touch, his head tilting ever so slightly to the right.

"Wasn't…wasn't your family there? Anyone?"

"Yeah. They were all there. Cousins, aunts, uncles, just like you said. But they didn't wanna be around me," he murmured. "His mom was there too," he added. "I think that if there's anyone in the world who hates me more than my dad and Sesshomaru do, it's probably her. She can't _stand_ me…" he elaborated, a wry smile on his lips.

"Because your dad married your mom?" Kagome queried.

"No. Because she said my mom was a home wrecker. My parents were never married," he explained. "It's not true, though. I know it's not. My mom…she was the nicest lady ever. She'd…she'd never do something like that," he said with finality. "You believe me, don't you?" he asked, peering at her.

"Yes," she said sincerely.

"Why'd you stop?" he asked. Kagome hadn't even realized that her hand's ministrations had ceased until he'd pointed it out.

"Oh, you _like_ that, do you?" she asked slyly with a smile. He blushed, ducked his head and nodded. Kagome snickered at his antics and went to retrieve a brush from her drawer. "Then this should feel really good," she said. "Here, turn around that way. Take off your _shoes_ first, Inuyasha," she laughed. He turned, his back to her, and she went to work on the head of snowy locks, working slowly, one section at a time, from the tips to roots. His head tilted backwards when she gently brushed his scalp, stimulating it with the bristles. She loved his hair. It was so soft, despite how it could appear at times, and was almost slippery under her fingers.

"You look very nice in your suit," she said after a while. She was grateful his back was to her, so that he couldn't see the blush that stained the bridge of her nose and her cheeks. Then again, she couldn't see the blush that he sported either. But he did look very suave and debonair in the charcoal gray suit, even if the tie hung untidily around his neck. It made him look…roguish. 'Either way,' she thought with a sigh. 'He looks _so_ hot,'

"Thanks…but it's Sesshomaru's. He only let me wear it because one, he says it's 'so nineties', and two, it's too small for him anyway," Inuyasha explained.

"It's 'so nineties'?" Kagome giggled. "What is he, a fashion guru?"

"That's Sesshomaru," Inuyasha said with a shrug. He fell silent for a moment. "I hate him, you know," he said quietly, picking at a small fray in her blanket. "I don't…I don't want to impress him anymore…I just hate him." Kagome cringed and felt horribly guilty. This was all her fault.

"Inuyasha…don't say that…" she implored.

"Why _shouldn't _I?" he snapped. "He says it to me. He says it all the time."

"Because he's your brother, and—"

"No, I'm not. Not according to him. And now? Not according to me either. _Jaken_ is his brother. Fuck Sesshomaru," Inuyasha spat angrily.

"I'm so sorry," Kagome whispered as she ran the brush through one section, top to bottom, watching it gleam in the dim light of her lamp.

"What are _you_ sorry for?"

"This. I feel like all this…anger…is my fault. I shouldn't have told you to go…I'm so sorry, Inuyasha…" she muttered. He turned around to face her again, his brow wrinkled.

"It's not your fault," he assured her.

"Yes it is—"

"No, really. It isn't your fault, Kagome. I wouldn't have gone if I didn't really _want_ to go…and as far as Sesshomaru goes…well…let's just say there's no love lost. I mean it when I say he hates me, Kagome. It's just time that I started _acknowledging _that, and move the fuck on. Believe me, it's not so bad for me to hate him back," he explained. Kagome searched his beautiful golden eyes, and smiled weakly. Without hesitating, or giving her mind a chance to protest, she leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him into a gentle hug.

Inuyasha's eyes popped open wide, and he froze on the spot. A picture of his face would have been priceless.

"K-K-Kah! Kagome! What are you doing?" he whispered furiously.

"Hugging you," she murmured, her voice muffled by his curtain of hair. "You…you _need_ it, Inuyasha. Everyone needs a hug once in a while. And I'm gonna give it to you, whether you like it or not," she said with finality.

"I…I…I like it," he muttered, so low that she barely caught his words. Her heart skipped at beat in chest, and she smiled against him, tightening her hold, trying to give him the hint to hug her back. Ever so slowly, his arms wound around her rib cage, and he loosely hugged her back.

"I like it too," she whispered. Inuyasha blushed, and then, positive that she could feel the heat of it, blushed a bit more. This was why he'd come tonight. Well, not this exactly…but he knew, just knew that when he came to her house, some how, in some way, she would make him feel better. She would make him smile, and he could pick up the pieces and get along.

He inhaled through his nose, and for the first time in the while that he'd known her, he got a proper whiff of her hair. Not wanting to creep her out by continuing to sniff about like a rooting dog, he concentrated on evening his breathing to normal lengths, content to simply inhale her scent in slow, languorous breaths.

Had Kagome always smelled that good?

Author's Notes:

Oh, my Gosh! 43 pages! My, my, my, aren't you all lucky readers! I think the hard-working author deserves some wonderful reviews for this…

Wowzer313


	13. To Save You

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, Rumiko Takahashi does. I don't own Hot Wheels either, though I'll admit I have a set or two…

Author's Notes:

Some happiness! Then some angst…then a little more angst…then more happiness! You all know my modus operandi, by now.

**Chapter 13:** To Save You

"Miroku, that's the worst wrapping job I've ever seen in my life," Sango said flatly. The boy picked up the gift he'd wrapped and turned it over in his hands, observing his work critically.

"Oh, come on, Sango, it's not that bad," he defended, pouting.

"Yes, it is. The tape's all crooked. What are you five?"

"I'm a _guy_. I don't particularly _care_ about the wrapping. All guys care about is what's inside. I don't care, and I don't think Inuyasha will care," he muttered.

"I gotta go with Miroku on this one Sango, sorry. I really don't think Inuyasha will care what the wrapping paper looks like," Kagome giggled, whilst tying a bright red ribbon around her own gift.

"What about mine, Kagome? Huh? What about mine? Do you think Inuyasha will like it?" Souta asked excitedly, bouncing up and down from his seat on the kitchen floor, his hands atop a large, flat, brightly colored box that he'd yet to wrap. Kagome smiled at him, nodding.

"Of course he will, Souta. I'm sure he'll love it," she assured the boy. She wasn't going to tell the eight-year old that Inuyasha was probably a bit too old for a race car set. But when Kagome had told everyone of her plan, Souta had painstakingly saved the pennies of his allowance and bought the Hot Wheels set, complete with remote controllers for each tiny vehicle. While Inuyasha probably would refuse to take it home with him, she had no doubts that he'd entertain Souta with it when he came over. Besides that…Kagome was sure that Souta had only bought the toy for himself, using Inuyasha's conveniently placed birthday as an excuse.

She watched her friends as they helped her wrap Inuyasha's gifts. Nothing too personal. She, Sango, and Miroku had all chipped in for a nice, new sweatshirt, gray, because she was going to murder him if she saw him in that black one again. Her mother's gift was the cake, Souta had the race car set, and her Grandfather…well…he'd announced that his gift was the history he brought to the dinner table each and every night. Kagome cringed. She'd have to persuade him to refrain from regaling them with tales and lore of the Feudal Era. For everyone's sake…

Kagome also had two gifts for him that would be only from her. One was a gift card to a local art shop. She hadn't told anyone else about that one, because she was fairly certain that Inuyasha wanted to keep his talent a secret, though for the life of her she couldn't understand why. She was so proud of him that she wanted to announce his talents _for_ him.

The second was a bit more personal. A digital photo of them together that she'd replicated four times into different color schemes, and added caption to. She'd taken extra care to have it specially framed and wrapped in extra-special paper, though she was sure, as Miroku had said, that he wouldn't care about how it was wrapped. A smile curved her lips at the memory.

* * *

"And you should have seen Akuran's face when I showed him your test! It was priceless, I swear. His jaw completely dropped!"

"Really?" Inuyasha asked, a tiny smile of pride tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Yeah."

"Huh. A ninety-three percent. Who knew?" he murmured.

"I did," Kagome insisted in earnest. He smiled at her fondly and picked up another rock to toss into the little brook in front of them. Beams filtered through the dense overhead of the tree canopy, bathing the area in which they sat in dappled spots of light. It was perfectly quiet, save the trickling of the water that fell over the boulders and logs in the tiny stream, and the occasional chirp of birds. It was perfect for pictures, early springtime was, though it was still quite chilly; the touch of wintertime had not yet worn off. And late afternoon was her favorite time of day to go on nature walks for that very purpose. And since she and Inuyasha had been hanging out all day long, it only made sense that she'd invite him on one of her private walks. She'd been wanting to do so for a while anyway.

Unexpectedly, Inuyasha reclined against the grassy bank, one arm folded beneath his head, the other draped lazily over his stomach. He closed his eyes. With a fond smile, Kagome readied her favorite old dinosaur of a camera and snapped his photo, the stippled sunlight spotting his perfect face and hair. Unhurriedly, she lay down next to him, leaving a scant seven inches between them, hoping that he was okay with that. Only the deep blush that spread over his cheeks indicated that he was aware of her change in position. He didn't open his eyes.

"It looks familiar," he commented, his voice soft.

"This is where I took that picture in the darkroom that you liked. The one hanging up? I was right here," she told him. His eyes slid open to regard the view above them, and Kagome snapped a shot of the tiny space of open sky. Feeling his eyes on her, she raised a hand above her head, and shaped her fingers in a 'peace' sign, the rays stretching out dramatically behind her fingers, and snapped the picture. She would like that one, she was sure.

"It's nice here," he whispered. "Really quiet. Nice."

"It's my second favorite spot," she informed him.

"Darkroom is the first, right?"

"You got it." Rolling onto her side, she snapped a picture of his profile, a most absolute look of peace dominating his features. She sighed inwardly. How could one guy be so…so… 'Breathtakingly beautiful,' she thought finally. She could photograph him forever.

"How come you do that?" he asked, his tone curious.

"Do what?" she asked, snapping another.

"Take pictures of me when I'm not posin' or anything."

"I told you before: candid shots are best," she said with a shrug. 'Well, _some_ candid shots are best,' she thought with a smile. She thought about the picture of him flipping her off in the album that sat on her desk at that very moment. He'd been prepared for that one. She didn't take offense to it. Rather, she thought it was quite cute—his expression of 'Haha, got you!' was what made the photo. It was so…Inuyasha. He regarded her out of the corner of his eye.

"Let me take _your_ picture," he demanded. Kagome clutched her camera away from him.

"No!"

"Why not?"

"Because…"

"Because why?"

"Because…it's mine!" she argued, knowing that it didn't make any sense.

"So?"

"So…I only like photograph_ing_, not _being_ photograph_ed_," she emphasized. The mischievous look that settled on his face unnerved her. "Inuyasha…Inuyasha, don't you—"

Quicker than she could register, his hand shot out and wrapped quite securely around both of her wrists, locking them together. One of his ankles locked both of hers flush against the grass. His other hand snatched the camera away from her, and held away from her grasping hands.

"Inuyasha, give it back!" she pouted, squirming against his hold. If she allowed herself to lay there for long enough and think about it, she could permit some very naughty thoughts to enter her mind about her position with the dangerously attractive boy above her.

"Not a chance!" he exclaimed, a mirthful smile on his face. Kagome couldn't help but smile back at him. How often did she get to see a face like that? She kept that look trapped in her mind: the boyish flash of his teeth, the small dimple in his left cheek. Whatever deep-rooted sadness that he kept trapped inside had trapped with it the beautiful smile that she'd only recently found he possessed. She wished he'd reveal it to her more often, as she reveled it.

"Okay, okay, but at least be careful! It's really, really old!" she warned.

"I won't break it, I promise," he told her, and brought the large thing to his eye to snap her photo from his vantage point, suspended above her. The camera wheezed and groaned, rolling the film for the next exposure. "Smile," he commanded her softly. She sighed with exasperation and briefly flashed her teeth in a loose-lipped little pseudo smile. It wasn't very attractive, and she knew it. She just wanted to be difficult, since he hadn't allowed her to have her way. He pulled the camera away from his face and frowned, shaking one finger at her.

"Now, that's not good," he said, mock-scolding her. "Come on, Kagome. Give me a cute smile. A pretty one," he instructed lightly. Kagome didn't miss the little blush that dusted his face. Purposefully, she gave him her most radiant smile, still pulling at his vice-like grip, while he captured the picture. He rewarded her with one of his own. "That's better," he whispered. A few locks of hair slipped over his shoulders, and the tips brushed against her cheeks. Kagome held her breath. Had she been braver…she would have strained her abdominal muscles as much as she could to lean up and kiss him just then. But…then again, it was probably better that she didn't. He could be incredibly skittish when he felt so inclined, and she had no doubt that her pulling a trick like _that_ on him would warrant very skittish behavior indeed. Even still…she could think it, _imagine_ it in her head. A secret smile crossed her lips.

"What are you smirkin' at?" he asked lightly, finally releasing her wrists and settling back on the grass next to her.

"Nothing," she said, that grin still in place.

"Fine, don't tell me," he snapped sulkily. Kagome shot him a look.

"It was nothing, really. But…I _am_ wondering when my portrait will be done. You've seen so many of my pictures, but I've _yet_ to see that picture you've been keeping under wraps. It's been weeks, and it's not fair," she said. Now it was his turn to smile secretly.

"It'll be done when it's done. I'm not gonna just rush through the damn thing," he shrugged. "Patience, Kagome, is a virtue," he said solemnly. Kagome rolled her eyes.

"Oh, don't give me that. You sound like my mom. Besides, you're one to talk. Mr. Impatience himself, telling _me_ to be patient," she scoffed, whacking him lightly in the chest. He winced and stiffened, a hand flying to the spot. Kagome was confused for a moment. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he said, his voice a bit tight.

"I'm sorry…I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't you that hard. I thought it was soft," she apologized.

"It's alright."

"You sure? Because—"

"Kagome, it's fine!" he exclaimed, chuckling a bit. "Kami, you talk so much!" he laughed.

"Okay, okay. Sorry," she muttered with an embarrassed smile. She surreptitiously scooted a bit closer to him, and lifted her camera above their heads, lens facing them.

"What are you doing _now_?"

"I just realized: I've got pictures of just me, I've got pictures of just you, but none of me _and_ you," she explained. "So smile."

"No."

"Come on, Inuyasha, don't be difficult."

"But I'm _always_ difficult. Difficult is my middle name."

"Okay, then, Inuyasha Difficult Chikamatsu. Smile for the damn camera," she laughed.

"I thought you said candid shots were best?" he added quickly, smiling because he knew she was getting a bit frustrated.

"Just show some teeth!" And she snapped the picture, smiling hastily into its flash to catch her own grin.

"I think you missed us completely," he told her quietly, amusement running thick in his voice. "Gimme." He took the camera from her hand, and to her surprise, leaned his head towards hers, holding the camera out and using the advantage of his longer arm. Kagome looked up at him, her vantage point giving her quite the view of his lower jaw bone, and resisted the urge, yet again, to press a kiss there. The flash blinded her for a second, and she hoped she was smiling.

* * *

She hoped he would like it. She certainly did. She'd made a copy of the photo for herself, and kept it safely tucked away in her room. She quite liked how it had turned out.

Kagome looked over Sango and Miroku, still squabbling about the level of Miroku's wrapping skills, her little brother, messily cutting a length of balloon-patterned paper from the roll to wrap his gift with. Kagome smiled at them.

"Thanks, guys," she told Sango and Miroku.

"It's our pleasure, Kagome. You know we all like Inuyasha," Sango said lightly.

"I don't," Miroku pouted. The two girls and Souta stared at him, dubious expressions marking their faces. He crossed his arms.

"Why not?" Sango asked, voicing the question they all had. Kagome frowned. She thought they had gotten along quite nicely all the times the four of them had hung out.

"He beat me!" Miroku whined plaintively. At his declaration, the girls burst out in laughter, relieved to see that his ire held no true ill feelings. Kagome patted his forearm comfortingly.

"Well, maybe tonight he'll give you a rematch," she said, placating him with a barely contained smirk. The boy rolled his eyes at her and turned away. Kagome wouldn't soon forget _that_ event.

* * *

She and Sango had gone upstairs to her room, so that Sango could change her top. Buyo had suddenly come down with an upset stomach, and well…the result ended up on Sango…

They came down the stairs, ready to gather the boys and head off to their movie, and entered the kitchen, only to find that Inuyasha and Miroku were in the middle of a war. A hot sauce war.

The stage was set. Inuyasha sat at one end of the table, Miroku at the other. Between them sat about twenty small Dixie cups of the thick red liquid, and a few crumpled bills and a couple of coins. Buyo, apparently over his upset stomach, watched idly from the top of the refrigerator, his tail swishing back and forth like a metronome. Souta sat between the two boys, acting as referee, his hand in the air.

"Miro—" Sango started forward, ready to stop them undoubtedly. Kagome stopped her friend, motioning for her to be quiet, a smile on her face. This she had to see.

"Okay, are you ready?" Souta asked. The two older teens nodded solemnly, eyeing each other over the rows of cups, each with a hand poised and ready to grab the first cup. "Okay, then. On your mark…Get set…_Go!_"

Each shot out a hand, snatching the little cups and chugging them at breakneck speed. Miroku was fast—but Inuyasha was faster. _Much_ faster. And…he seemed to be able to hold his hot sauce much better. He slapped his hand flat on the table with a loud _'smack!'_

"Ten!" he crowed with delight, holding up the last drained cup. "Done! I win!" he exclaimed. Miroku stopped in mid-chug. He pulled the cup away from his mouth, a red-hot sauce mustache adorning his upper lip.

"Aw, man! No fair…" he whined. Inuyasha just smiled, sporting his own hot sauce mustache, and pulled the crumpled money to himself. Miroku's face blanched. "Oh…oh, Kami…I don't think that was such a good idea…" he groaned, pressing his hands to his stomach. Inuyasha smirked, stuffing the cash into his pocket, though he himself looked a bit strained.

Needless to say, they hadn't gone to the movies that night. She and Sango had spent the rest of the evening laughing their brains out at the two retching boys as they emptied their bet into the toilet.

* * *

'Boys will be boys,' Kagome thought fondly.

"He'd better give me a rematch," Miroku said darkly, no doubt plotting his strategy. "I've been training." That night had been hilarious, and she'd been grateful that Sango and Miroku heartily agreed to help her with Inuyasha's birthday party, as she rarely got to see the boy having fun.

"Okay, so is everything set? Because if it is, I'm gonna go and get him," Kagome announced standing. With an appraising eye, she inspected the house. The bright streamers decorated almost every inch of the walls, balloons floating against the ceiling. The large 'Happy Birthday!' banner swung merrily in the archway of the kitchen; it would be the first thing he saw when she led him into the house.

"I think that's everything," Sango said thoughtfully. "When do you want us to hide?" she asked.

"I'll text you when I've got him in the car," Kagome said, shrugging into her jacket. "Then you guys can wait about ten minutes, then hide. He lives kind of far," she explained. "Make sure you're absolutely silent! It's got to be the hardest ever to surprise a half demon, so you can't talk at all once you hear my car, alright?"

"Okay, Kagome quit worrying! Just go!" Miroku laughed, he and Sango practically pushing her out the door. "We'll be ready!" he assured her as she walked across the courtyard.

* * *

Kagome parked her car in front of his house, staring up at darkened structure. 'It certainly isn't the most _inviting_ looking place,' she thought. Shrugging and unbuckling her seatbelt, Kagome exited her tiny vehicle, ready to execute her plan.

In all reality, she hadn't thought this out too well. Inuyasha would be surprised with her being there: of that she was sure. There was no way he knew that she remembered his address from one glance at his grade report all those months ago. He was sure to be shocked. But after opening the door…well…Kagome fully intended on kidnapping him, and taking him home with her. Just _how_ she was going to kidnap him, she wasn't quite sure. 'Maybe his dad can throw him in the car for me,' she thought with a giggle. A thought struck her. She'd never actually _met _Inuyasha's father. She really hadn't heard much about him at all, and suddenly, she was curious.

Her knuckles fell sharply against the wood of the front door, the knock sounding hollow within. There was no response. She banged on it with the side of her fist, hoping to have someone hear. 'What if he's not home?' she thought, panicked. 'Way to go, Kagome. _That_ really throws a wrench in the plans.'

"Hold on, Dad! I'm coming! I'm almost done, I swear, okay?" a shout came from deep inside the house. Kagome frowned. She was _sure_ that sounded like Inuyasha…but…why did he sound so terribly afraid? "Please don't be mad, okay? It was a lot to clean…" his voice came again, this time, coming much closer to the door, as though he were actively walking towards it. He was still speaking. The door flew open. Several things happened at once.

"…couldn't quite get the stain ou—"

"Happy Bir—" Kagome exclaimed as he was talking. She immediately cut herself off and clamping her hands over her mouth at the sight of him. His eyes widened. Hers filled with tears. The blood drained from his face, his pale skin creating quite the contrast with the coating he sported everywhere else. "Oh…Kami…" Kagome murmured, her voice muffled behind her hands. Her eyes trailed down his form, and she struggled not to cry out, not to let the water fall from her eyes.

'No, no, no, no, no,' was all she could think. Over and over. He stared at her, ashamed. Kagome took in the horrific sight: the hideously swollen black eye, the busted, bleeding lip, the claw marks that marred the pale flesh of his abdomen and chest, the blood that oozed from the deep lacerations, the rivulets that ran freely down his stomach and stained the waistband of his sweatpants. The vicious bruise that left a ghost of an image on his throat: four fingers and a thumb. The ends of his long hair were plastered to his body, pink in some areas, deep crimson in others, from the worst kind of stain. His face…it broke her heard.

"What are you doing here?" came his question though tightly clenched teeth. Kagome didn't think she could make herself speak. Her mouth gaped and closed behind her hands, nothing but muffled squeaks able to be heard. She shook her head, willing those tears not to fall. That would only make things worse. "I said, _what _are you_ doing here_?" he shouted, his face splitting into a frightening grimace. He was glaring daggers at her, more upset than she'd ever seen him, and it all seemed to be directed at her. "_Answer_ the fucking question!"

"I…I-I j-ju-just…came t-to…" she stammered horribly. She could hardly think straight, let alone speak! "To…to—"

"Go home," he ordered, his voice suddenly quiet. His eyes burned with unbridled fury, bored a hole in her. His fingers clenched the edge of the door so tightly that the knuckles turned white with the force. She cringed.

"No!" she burst out. "No, Inuyasha, I can't leave you like this—"

"You _can_ and you _will_!" he growled. "Go home, Kagome!"

"Inuyasha, you're hurt! I'm not going to just _leave_—"

"Leave it alone! Leave _me_ alone! Just leave! Get your ass away from my house, get the fuck in your car, and _go_ the _fuck home_!" he bellowed, spittle and blood flying from his chapped and bleeding lips in his frenzy. His dark brows pulled down and together dangerously.

"But—"

"I don't wanna see you anymore!" he screamed, throwing the door fully open, though Kagome was sure he hadn't meant to do so. She could now see into the house, the darkened interior revealing broken bits of something…perhaps plates. There was a splintered piece of wood from some furniture, and some dark substance smeared haphazardly across the wall…Kagome didn't even want to let herself think about what it was. A bucket and a mop sat in the middle of the mess, undoubtedly what Inuyasha had been using to clean.

"You don't…wh—"

"I don't wanna see you! I don't wanna talk to you! I don't wanna know you! Just leave me alone!" he choked out, and Kagome could have sworn she heard a sob tear from his throat. He was shaking, and against all of her urges, she didn't wrap her arms around him. His trembling was violent, and he was volatile, and she didn't want to invoke his wrath any more than she already had. "Just go away," he whispered.

"But I want—"

"Can't you hear? What are you, deaf? Go away! He's gonna be _pissed_ when he finds your scent all over the fucking porch! Just go! You're making things worse!" he cried. And he slammed the door in her face, the wood only a hair's breadth from her nose. Kagome struggled to control the labored wheezes that were her breath. Hurrying to her car, she got in and slammed the door, fastening her seatbelt with hands that shook terribly. She started the car and sped off as quickly as she could.

It wasn't until she was on the expressway back to her home that she let her tears fall. They flowed in hot streams down her cheeks, collecting under her chin and falling onto her jacket front. They fell silently as Kagome processed what she'd just seen, what she'd heard.

He wasn't mad at her. At least, she didn't _think_ so. She sincerely _hoped_ not. But he'd sounded so…malicious. So desperate to get her to leave. She knew, hoped against hope that he wasn't angry with her, so much as he was angry that she'd found him like she had.

She didn't have to wonder what happened. That was painfully clear. There was no need to ask, to wonder, to question.

Inuyasha's father beat him.

Another bout of tears stung her eyes at the thought alone, so bare and laid out for her to see. She clenched the steering wheel tightly, her vision blurred and impaired.

It was clear. The way he'd called out for his father not to be upset when she'd knocked on the door. His worry of some unnamed entity being pissed at her scent…there was no need for names. Kagome knew…

How could she have missed it? That was the question that plagued her. How could she have allowed herself to look over such a humongous problem with the boy that had become her best friend, the boy who'd worked his way into her heart? She knew he had problems at home. She knew that he had a dysfunctional family: an apathetic brother and a deceased mother…but how had she missed the abusive father? Kagome cursed herself, blamed herself for missing that crucial detail.

How could she save him?

More importantly, would he let her?

* * *

Inuyasha leaned heavily against the door, his palms flat, the slam of the wood still ringing in his ears. His breathing was horribly labored and rough, his head throbbing. Pressing his still sore and stinging back against the door, he slid down it, allowing himself to sit on the floor, his back propped up against the smooth wood. His heel slid through a few fragments of shattered glass that he'd yet to sweep up.

He allowed his head to loll backwards, his crown just barely brushing against the oak. He tried to control his breathing, but to no avail. And internally, he raged.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" he screamed at himself, his voice echoing through the empty house. He hated that. He hated that his house echoed. It wasn't a home. Not really. "How could you just…just…_chase_ her _away_?" He ran and agitated hand through his bangs, wincing as he unwittingly brushed against a fresh scrape on his forehead. He didn't want her to leave him alone. Not really. He was alone enough as it was.

It was over. It was over, over, over, and he knew it. And he hated himself for it. 'If I'd only…only…If I'd just looked through the fucking _peephole_, none of this shit would be happening,' he thought, enraged. 'She wouldn't hate me…' Inuyasha took in a deep, shaking breath. He tried to push past the large lump that had formed in his throat; he swallowed thickly, and his eyes stung.

He'd been so afraid. So terribly afraid that his father had come home early. He hadn't had nearly enough time to clean up the mess that had resulted after his punishment, and he knew, from prior experience, that one mess unattended to would result in much pain for him. He hadn't even thought about it. As soon as he heard the banging on the door, he'd just blurted out his apology. Had he known Kagome was on the other side of that door…he would have never opened his mouth. He would have let her knock and knock until she came to the conclusion that no one was home, and left. And then, she still would have thought him to be normal. Well…as normal as he could be. She still would have liked him…she still would have wanted to be his friend.

Inuyasha choked, his face collapsing at the thought. There was no _way_ she'd want to be his friend now. Not with what she'd seen. He covered his chest up, folding his arms over himself, suddenly cold, and self-conscious for no reason. He shivered and bit his lip, ignoring the stab of pain that shot through his aching head. How could she? How could she _want_ to be his friend, knowing what she knew? Seeing him like that? 'If being a half-breed weren't enough…' he thought sadly. 'Now, I'm a half-breed that can't even stand _up_ for himself…'

He was shocked to feel the scalding tear that made its way down his temple from the corner of his eye. He hadn't cried in years. Not since he was a little kid. But now that he'd lost her…he _had_ to have lost her. He was _positive _he'd lost her. With all that he'd said—no. With all that he'd _shouted _at her, there was no way. He didn't know why he'd yelled those things. There were in no way true. He always wanted to see her. He always wanted to be near her. He was ecstatic that he'd gotten the chance to know her. He could only conclude that he'd said those things because…because…he was embarrassed. Cripplingly so. If that weren't enough, he'd made her cry. He could have kicked himself for that. He laughed self-deprecatingly, darkly.

"You're fucking pathetic," he told himself in a whisper. "Kagome would _never_ want to be around you. Not anymore." Another burning tear found its way down his bruised face. Inuyasha frowned deeply and brusquely wiped it away with the heel of his hand, hissing as he pressed a bruise.

"I'm so sorry, Kagome."

* * *

It was a profoundly subdued and sullen Kagome that greeted the guests at the Higurashi shrine. They had all frozen when she entered the house, thinking that they had ruined the surprise because they hadn't been in their spots.

"Kagome!" Sango exclaimed. "Where…Where's Inuyasha?" she asked, peeking around the morose girl.

"Oh…he…um…"

"Kagome, is everything alright?" her mother asked, concern etching into her face at her daughter's downtrodden expression. Kagome didn't dare look into her mother's eyes. Surely the woman would be able to see the sorrow…

"Yeah, yeah…everything's fine," she lied, putting a chipper note into her voice and praying that it didn't sound too forced.

"Where's Inuyasha?" Miroku repeated Sango's question.

"He…he um…" Kagome scrambled for an excuse. It hadn't even crossed her mind to think of one on her way home, she was so absorbed in thinking about Inuyasha's situation. "He's sick. Really, _really_ sick. Stomach flu, actually. He's…just…barfing all over the place. He wouldn't even let me come in, because he thinks he's contagious and didn't want to spread the germs," she explained finally, satisfied that her lie would adequately give him an out. Ms. Higurashi clicked her tongue.

"Oh, well that's too bad. The poor dear. Sick on his birthday. Do you think we should bring something over? Some soup or—"

"No, no! I…I mean, uh, Inuyasha doesn't want to risk spreading anything…he—he'd feel terribly guilty if any of us got sick because of him," Kagome said quickly, hoping to deter any visits. "Anyway…I didn't tell him about the party…so, maybe we can reschedule? For another day?"

"Yeah, sure, that's fine," Miroku agreed, and Sango nodded her consent as well.

"Thanks, you guys. That's great. You…you guys can go I guess. Sorry to have taken your time for nothing…" Kagome mumbled.

"It's fine, Kagome, don't worry about it," Sango said lightly.

"Okay…so…I'll, um…I'll call you. Whenever…we can reschedule, okay?"

"Okay."

Kagome shut the door after her two friends, watching out of the window as they descended the shrine steps. She sighed heavily and clenched her fists, turning to head up to her room. She needed to be alone.

"Kagome? Sweetheart?" came her mother's voice. She laid a gentle, warm hand on Kagome's shoulder. "Honey, are you sure you're alright?" she asked softly, concerned. Kagome turned to look at the woman, seeing all of the love in her eyes. The concern, the tenderness. All she could think of was how Inuyasha didn't have any of that. How Inuyasha hadn't had that since he was a very small child…how she wanted to give him that again.

"Oh, Mom," she whispered brokenly. She allowed herself to slump into her mother's embrace, taking the older woman's warmth and using it to build herself up again. "Mom…mom…" she murmured over and over again, the tears threatening to overcome her once more.

"Sweetie, what happened over there?" she asked. Kagome could hear the shock and fear in her mother's voice. She wanted to tell her. She wanted to break down and tell every bit of what she saw, to get her mother's advice. But she couldn't. She couldn't do that to Inuyasha. She couldn't betray his trust.

"Inuyasha's just really sick, Mom. He's really, _really_ sick," she murmured.

* * *

She hadn't seen him all day. It was quite obvious that he was avoiding her. He hadn't shown up at their usual secluded little lunch table, he wasn't in the library or outside on the front stairs at the school entrance, all places where she could usually find him. She was worried. Perhaps he wasn't just avoiding her…maybe he wasn't at school today. With the injuries she'd seen…perhaps that was enough to take him out of commission for a day.

All those worries left her, however, when she walked into Biology class 7th hour and saw him at his lab bench, hunched over his notebook and scribbling furiously. Kagome took what had become her usual seat next to him. He didn't acknowledge her presence; he didn't even look up from the homework he was desperately trying to finish before the bell rang. Kagome waited patiently until he finished. She waited until the bell rang, and waited until the teacher had collected the homework and had gotten well into her lecture before she attempted to speak to him.

"Are you just going to ignore me forever?" she whispered. He didn't answer. She wished she could see his face. But with his ever-present hood in place, all she could see was the tip of his nose from over the edge of the fabric.

It had been a long period. Kagome felt like it took forever for the bell to finally ring and release them from their prison so that she could finally pull some words out of him. Enough was enough.

But he'd bolted. As soon as the bell sounded, he bolted from the room, leaving Kagome to follow as quickly as she could. She jogged after him, feeling a bit pathetic at the way she was trailing him, but feeling as though it were necessary. She couldn't let him drift away from her for too long; she feared she'd never be able to get him back.

He made his way briskly to the small pavilion that was the bus stop, clearing the little space faster than anything she'd ever seen. Her heart clenched at the way the people repelled from him, the way they didn't want to be anywhere near him, even to get on a bus that they needed, as though he were some disease. 'If they only knew…'

He didn't way a word as she took a seat on the hard bench beside him. He only kept his intense focus on the ground, his hands clenched into tight fists in his lap.

"You're that mad at me, huh?" she asked, fiddling with the flap of her bag. "You're that upset with me that you don't even want to come over to study today? Inuyasha, look, I don't know what I did, but I don't want you to be ma—"

"I'm not mad at you, alright?" he cried, his voice cracking sharply. Kagome could only stare at the side of his hood. The distress was clear in his tone.

"Could have fooled me," she muttered. "You haven't talked to me since that day…you've just been avoiding me…what am I supposed to think?" He wouldn't answer her. "Inuyasha, _talk_ to me," she pleaded.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked desperately, finally facing her. "Hm? What the hell am I supposed to say?"

"I don't _know_, Inuyasha! I don't _know_! I only want to know why you've been avoiding me—"

"Did it ever occur to you that I'd be embarrassed?" he shot back darkly. He crossed his arms.

"Embarrassed…" she repeated, as though trying the word on for the first time. "Inuyasha, you have no reason to be embarrassed—"

"The hell I don't!" he snorted. "Why _shouldn't_ I be embarrassed? I have every reason to be! Kami, if everything weren't horrible enough! Now you see me all fucked up—"

"Inuyasha, _you're_ not the one who needs be embarrassed or feel ashamed! _He_ is!" Kagome exclaimed. There was no reason to explain who 'he' was.

"Well, I do, okay? Dammit!" The silence that ensued seemed to stretch into eternity.

"How…how long has he been…doing this to you?" she whispered the question. Inuyasha growled harshly, crossing his arms over his chest and turning his back to her.

"I don't want to talk about this," he spat.

"Does it happen every day? Or only once in a while? Or—"

"Kagome..." he sneered warningly.

"What about Sesshomaru? Why hasn't he said or done anything? Or…oh, Kami, does he hit your brother, too?

"Kagome! What part of 'I don't want to talk about it' do you not fucking understand?" he snarled viciously, his posture tightening with the force of his words. "Shit! Just leave it the fuck alone!"

Kagome bit the inside of her cheek, torn. She couldn't, simply couldn't, leave him to stew in his thoughts. This had been stagnant for far too long.

"Why don't you call the police?" she asked finally. He sighed heavily, obviously giving up. He knew she wouldn't let it go. She was persistent to a fault.

"Who's gonna care, Kagome? What cop, human or demon, is gonna care about some stupid half-breed? They'll…probably say I deserve it," he mumbled.

"No, they wouldn't say that! It doesn't matter what you are, they'll still help you! It's not right for him to_ do_ that to you, Inuyasha!"

"No, Kagome, they won't! They won't care, alright?"

"How do you know they won't?"

"How do you know they will?" he retorted. She was silent. "Just believe me, alright? They won't care. They won't give a shit."

"What about…what about group homes? Or…or—adoption! What about adoption, Inuyasha, or a foster home at least?" Kagome was tired of talking to his back, and she moved to sit in front of him on his opposite side.

"Are you out of your mind?" he said nastily. "Who's gonna wanna adopt me, huh? Who's gonna want to take me into their home? Even if only for a few weeks. Do you realize how low in the pecking order I would be for adoption? The ones with the best shot are the infants!" he exclaimed. "Not only am I a teenager, but I'm a _boy_, _and_ a _hanyou_! You can't get much worse off than that!" He growled low in his throat and looked away. "That'd never work. I've done some research. Believe me, it'd be useless."

"Have you…have you considered emancipating yourself?" she suggested meekly, bracing for him to shoot the idea down. "You could, you know, have a judge grant you emancipation…then you could get a job…your own place. Maybe you could stay in your flat for a while until you got on your feet—"

"I have no job. The odd jobs I do for Totosai wouldn't pay for food. I'm a hanyou. No one would hire me. I can barely keep my grades up when I have a stable place to stay. There's no way I'd be able to—"

"And abusive home is _not_ stable," Kagome insisted hotly. Inuyasha looked into her eyes, and absolutely broke her heart with the immense sorrow in them.

"I'd never be able to make it," he whispered. "There is no option for me, Kagome. There's nothing. All there is is the house, and Dad, that's it. There is no choice."

"Inuyasha…I can't…I can't take it…" she stammered. He shut his eyes, clenching them tightly against the rejection he knew was coming. "I can't take—" 'Being your friend anymore,' he finished for her in his head. 'Just say it and get it over with. Just fucking say it,' he thought painfully. He waited.

"I can't take the thought of him hitting you," she whispered. Her hands gripped his sleeve tightly. "Just…it was horrible…seeing you like that…"

"Kagome…" he breathed. She pushed the impeding hood off of him, and brought up a hand to cup his cheek; he blushed hotly. His heart contracted wildly in his chest. Her thumb moved to caress his skin, and Inuyasha almost shut his eyes at the feeling. Kagome's eyes fell to the 'v' of skin that his sweatshirt zipper hadn't closed to cover. She could still see the faint print of blood under his pale skin, the bruise that was shaped like a hand. She looked at his face, studying it for evidence of his black eye, his busted lip. All that was left of those injuries were a small scratch on his cheekbone and a tiny cut on the edge of his lip.

"Were you ever gonna tell me?" she whispered. He looked at her guiltily.

"No…I…I didn't want you to ever find out…" he admitted.

"Inuyasha—"

"I know, I know…you don't think I should be embarrassed. But…Kagome, why would I want you to know that? Huh? Why would I want you of all people to see that I'm weak?"

"You're not weak! Inuyasha, he's a lot older than you, and he's full demon! You can't really think that you'd be able to take that kind of beating—"

"That really doesn't make me feel any better," he muttered, and she fell quiet.

"I'm sorry. I just mean that…you shouldn't have to go through what you go through…it's not right."

"Some would say it is."

"They'd be wrong."

"You sound so sure."

"It's because I am."

"I don't understand you."

"I know. But that's alright," she said softly. Her hand hadn't moved from its spot on his cheek. Moving her hand toward herself in a leading sort of way, Kagome pulled him into ha hug, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. He blushed again as his mouth and nose were inadvertently nestled against the crook of her neck. He let out a shaky breath as he took the time to really feel how close they were, as he discovered the incredible potency of her remarkable scent from his position. He could feel the steady thump of her pulse, so firmly against his bottom lip and he shuddered. He resisted the urge to pucker his lips and press a gentle kiss to the spot. His eyes went hazy.

"Don't shut me out, okay?" she whispered into his hair. Her throat vibrated against him as she spoke, sending more shivers down his spine. He sighed contentedly.

"I didn't want to shut you out in the first place," he admitted. "I don't want you to leave me alone…not really."

"And I won't," she said adamantly. His heart rejoiced.

"I was only…just—"

"I know. I know," Kagome told him. Her hands smoothed the hair on the crown of his head. "Just…tell me. When he hurts you…I want to save you," she murmured, her last words just barely audible, even to his superior hearing.

"You already have…" he sighed, his own voice just barely above a whisper. "In more ways than you know…"

He'd missed his bus. He didn't care.

* * *

Inuyasha followed behind Kagome as they made their way up the shrine steps. Was still embarrassed; still ashamed that she'd found out his dirty little secret. But even still, he couldn't deny, even to Kagome, that he wanted to be near her. And so he'd study with her that afternoon. Even if his heart wasn't into the actual schoolwork, as it rarely was, he'd go through the motions, if only to be with her, near her, talk with her.

She seemed a bit on edge as they drove to her home, and even now as they ascended the stairs. Inuyasha didn't know whether that was due to the little heart to heart they'd had, or simply because she was still reeling from the events a few days earlier. Either way, he wished he knew what the matter was so that he could try to—

"_SURPRISE!!!_" A flash went off.

"What the hell!?"

"_HAPPY BIRTHDAY, INUYASHA!!!_" The boy in question could only stare, mouth hanging open to his chest as the five people before him threw bits of sparkling confetti at him, most of which got promptly stuck in his hair. The sixth person, with a sly smile on her lips, deftly slipped a multi-colored cone hat on to his head, complete with an elastic string chin-strap.

"Gotcha," she whispered in his ear, tiptoeing to reach the appendage that flicked against her lips. She held up the camera that had apparently flashed upon his entry. "Come on," she smiled, taking his hand and leading the shocked boy further into the house.

"Did we surprise you, Inuyasha? Did we get you?" Souta asked excitedly, tugging on the older boy's sleeve, jumping up and down.

"Yeah, yeah, Souta…you got me…" Inuyasha said, dazed, as he looked around the house. There were balloons everywhere, of every color and shape, even. Streamers hung from the door frames. A large banner hung in the doorway of the kitchen. 'Happy Birthday!' it proclaimed in loud colors. The entire house smelled wonderful: of food, family, and Kagome. Inuyasha's heart was in his throat. "How did you…how did you know—"

"Grade report," Kagome said quickly. He needed no further explanation than that. The girl had somehow managed to remember every important thing about him from one look at his grade report all that time ago…he didn't know how she'd done it. But he was glad she had.

After they'd fed him enough to last him a week, Souta promptly shoved a huge gift into his lap, beaming at him expectantly.

"Open it, Inuyasha! Hurry and open it!" he demanded impatiently.

"Okay, okay, I'll open it," he laughed. He would open it. After he took a moment to absorb…the moment. The expectant, smiling faces surrounding him, the stupid hat that Kagome insisted he wear, the aromatic smell of the huge sheet cake that read 'Happy 17th Birthday, Inuyasha!' in electric blue frosting. He'd never forget it. He'd never had a birthday party. His mother had done the best she could…she'd tried to make his birthday festive, and he'd been satisfied with what she'd done. But this was more than he could have ever hoped for. After she died, his birthday had become nothing more than simply another day on the calendar. This was an unprecedented jump in the opposite direction.

He carefully stuck a claw under one of the folds of paper to cut the tape. Souta huffed with annoyance.

"Not like that!" he exclaimed. He ripped the paper away himself in a flurry of skinny limbs and crinkled paper. "Like that!" he said happily, the present bare.

"'Hot Wheels Alien Attackers'" Inuyasha read from the box. Well…he'd never had a race car set before…he supposed it was never too late… "Wow…thanks, Souta," he told the boy with a knowing smile.

"Hey…ya wanna play with it now?" he asked, practically jumping out of his skin. Inuyasha laughed.

"Yeah, sure. Go set it up." Souta all but snatched the box from Inuyasha's lap and ran into the living room.

He'd get around to racing cars with the child right after he'd been given Miroku, Sango and Kagome's gift.

"Hey, you got me a new one!" he exclaimed upon opening the box.

"Yeah. That means I never want to see this thing—" Kagome pinched the hood of the jacket he wore. "—ever again."

"Okay, okay," he grumbled with a smile.

It had gotten late, and because it was a school night, Miroku and Sango bid them their farewells, promising a movie that weekend for a _real_ celebration.

"Now that you're finally seventeen," Miroku reasoned. "We don't have to stick to stupid 'PG-13' movies. We've upgraded to 'R'," he said conspiratorially. "Believe me, my friend. The…ahem, benefits…of R-rated movies are fantastic…"

Inuyasha wasn't quite sure he knew what Miroku meant when he said that.

* * *

Eventually Souta had been sent to bed, after they'd all gotten their fill of cake. Inuyasha couldn't believe the effort they'd all put into a day to celebrate his birth—had he allowed himself, he might, just _might_ have been able to squeeze out a tear. Kagome had taken several pictures of the event, including several close-ups of him in that abhorred hat. She laughed musically and insisted that he'd love them when they came out. Eventually, though, it came to the time when Inuyasha knew he had to get home, or face a worse punishment than what already awaited him. He'd already stayed later than he should have.

"Wait," Kagome murmured, grabbing his wrist as he reached for his jacket. "Before you go." A secret smile played on her lips, and Inuyasha felt warmth pool in his stomach; he bit the inside of his cheek as she led him to her room.

"Another present?" he asked in wonder as she put a flat envelope into his hands.

"You didn't really think I'd only chip in for a sweatshirt for you, did you? Inuyasha, come on. You know me better than that. At least, you should," she scoffed. "Go ahead, open up."

The shiny silver card fell out into his lap as he opened the envelope's flap.

" 'Aihara's Art Abode' Kagome…"

"You like?"

" 'S perfect."

"I figured it would be. Now you can get more paint supplies…maybe you can finish my portrait faster…" she said leadingly, jokingly.

"Ah, so there's an ulterior motive," he smiled, tucking the card into his pocket.

"Of course there is!" she laughed. "My portrait…seeing you smile like that…all a part of my big plan," she said earnestly. Inuyasha swallowed thickly and his face heated, a shy smile tugging at his lips.

"Keh…well, thanks—"

"Oh! That's not it!"

"Kagome, it's too much—"

"No, it's not," she insisted, pulling the pièce de résistance out of her drawer. She pushed the rectangle into his hands, smiling softly. "Okay. Last thing, I promise."

Inuyasha could feel it was something important; his fingers trembled as he carefully slid off the bow and opened the paper. He held his breath as his eyes fell onto the picture he'd taken of them that day in the forest. He was smiling, genuinely _smiling _at the camera; Kagome was looking up at him, a radiant smile painted on her lips, her head partially pillowed on his hair. 'Damn, Kagome…' he thought breathlessly. The girl in question leaned her head on his shoulder, peeking over at the picture along with him, her face pressed flush against his own.

"We're pretty damn cute, aren't we?"

"Yeah…" Inuyasha murmured with a smile. '_Best Friends'_ the caption read. "Really?" he asked, pointing to the words.

"Of course. What'd you think?" she said. His heart almost stopped when her arms wrapped around his middle from behind, joining at his stomach, which promptly erupted with a hoard of butterflies. He was positive she could feel the heat from his blush against her own face. "You're my very best friend, Inuyasha," she whispered.

"M-mine too," he uttered, voice quaking. He felt hot all over.

"Stay here tonight," she blurted after they'd been quiet a few moments.

"Huh?" Inuyasha grunted articulately. He turned his head to look at her, and quickly realized how close their faces were, and immediately righted his position. He thought his head would explode with the amount of blood that was rushing to his face.

"Stay. Here," she repeated, tightening her embrace around him. "I…I can't stand the thought of him hitting you…not tonight. Not when you've enjoyed the whole night…it wouldn't be fair…"

"Kagome…I can't…"

"Please,"

"I…I want to…" he strained. 'I'd absolutely _love _to,' he added silently. The thought of spending a night in Kagome's room, her scent enveloping him, being able to wake up and see her first thing in the morning…he wanted to badly. "But…I just can't…" He was afraid to. If his father found out? He'd be dead.

"I understand," she whispered sadly. "But…Inuyasha…when he hurts you…_whenever_ he hurts you…you come to me. Okay? I don't care what time it is, when it is, or how bad it is…come to me, okay? Since you won't go to anyone else, come to me, alright?"

"Alright."

"Promise me you will. I'll take care of you, I promise. I'll take such good care of you," she pledged quietly. She pressed her forehead against the side of his face, her nose against his cheek, her whispers soft against his skin. Inuyasha shut his eyes and smiled, feeling the warmest he'd felt in years. Feeling _alive_. He tentatively pressed a gentle hand to her hair, and smoothed it between his fingers.

"I promise…Kami, Kagome…thank you."

* * *

Author's Notes:

…And on three: One, two, three: _AAAAWWWWWW!!!!!_ I know, I know…wipes tear oh, it was so beautiful….LOL

Hey did anyone notice that Inuyasha's fake initials are IDC? Like 'I Don't Care' ? lol, I just noticed that while I was proofing…you guys probably don't care either, lol.

I really like making Inuyasha happy. If you couldn't tell, He's my favorite anime character ever. (I know, I put him through grief…but it's all tough love hehehe)

And FYI, yeah, I've done a hotsauce chugging contest…it's _not_ a good idea at all. So if you were considering it for any reason at all, refrain. You _will_ vomit.

Review!

Wowzer313


	14. Suffering From Withdrawals

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, Rumiko Takahashi does.

Author's Notes:

Yea! Inuyasha was happy in the last chapter! Let's see where this one takes us…dun, dun, DUN!

Also—I was reading reviews—thank you all, by the way—and I realized… Thank you for the review kokoronagomu, but I don't know what '_ganbatte_' or '_ganbaru_' mean. Sorry. Again, I'm Spanish student…anyone care to shed some light? Please and thank you!

Oh, and BlackMamba07: I can say with confidence that I…have no idea how many chapters there will be. I know everything that I want to put in the story, I know how it's going to end; I even have entire _conversations_ worked out—but no clue how long! LOL.

And thanks SO MUCH to those who nominated this story for the IY Fanguild! That's so cool, so thanks!

Read on!

Oh, my gosh, I'm blushing so hard from this chapter right now…

**Chapter 14:** Suffering from Withdrawals

"What do you _mean_ you're _leaving_?" Inuyasha demanded, his face falling into an incredulous frown.

"Well…my grandma's really sick, Inuyasha," Kagome said meekly, twisting a lock of her hair around her index finger. "It's only right that I go and visit her."

"B-b-but…but…" he stammered. "How long will you be gone?"

"Um…a mmshgmgs…" she muttered unintelligibly. Inuyasha frowned.

"A what?"

"A month, Inuyasha. A month," she blurted finally, exasperated. His golden eyes nearly bugged out of his skull.

"A month? A _month_? A whole _month_?" He floundered, spluttered, choked on his Popsicle. He gaped up at her with wide eyes.

"Inuyasha, it's not the end of the world," she assuaged, patting his shoulder. 'But it _feels_ like it is,' he thought forlornly.

"What the hell am I supposed to do for a whole fucking _month_?" he muttered sulkily.

"I'm sure you'll be fine," she said supportively.

"I'm sure I _won't_," he spat. He heaved a great sigh and crossed his arms. He knew he was being selfish and childish and unreasonable. But he couldn't help it, and he didn't care. He wanted Kagome to stay with _him_. She couldn't just _leave_ for a _month_. Her grandmother be dam— 'Okay, that's just cruel,' he thought, scolding himself before he could finish that line of thought.

"Why? You gonna miss me too much?" she asked slyly, a playful grin on her lips. She nudged his upper arm with her knee. Inuyasha glared up at her from his spot on the ground.

"No," he emphasized. Kagome gave him a knowing look. "_No._"

"Inuyasha…" Kagome smirked.

"Maybe…a little…Who gives a shit?" he growled.

"It's okay if you'll miss me. I'll miss you too," she said lightly. Inuyasha was glad he was sitting on the ground, so that she couldn't see the bright blush that stained his cheeks. 'She'll miss me too?' he thought wonderingly. The things that girl said never ceased to amaze him.

He shifted uncomfortably, leaning back against the large boulder on which Kagome sat, her legs swinging back and forth against the rock to his right. He was hard pressed not to just reach out and…and…well. He didn't exactly know _what_ he would have done if he reached out for them. So he simply wouldn't do it. 'If the day isn't hot enough…' he thought with a grimace. True, it was a scorcher; the sun was high in the afternoon sky, and there was no breeze for relief. The shrine's air conditioning was broken, making it more miserable inside than out. So Kagome had suggested that they get Popsicles, which Inuyasha was now absolutely _crazy_ about, especially the cherry ones, and wander about in the forest, since the shade the trees provided was bound to cool them off. And so started the beginning of summer vacation.

Inuyasha had been so relieved that he'd actually managed to _pass_ Lit &Comp. Not only pass, but pass with a B-minus! 'And now,' he thought with near glee, 'I'll never have to see Akuran's ugly face ever again!' No doubt all thanks to Kagome.

So much was all thanks to Kagome. That he smiled so much more, that he didn't feel so alone anymore…that he felt like he had a family. But he wouldn't tell _her_ that; because he was sure he'd die of mortification if he revealed to her even an _ounce_ of the gratitude he had for her…or revealed to her any of the _other _feelings he had for her…

He wasn't going to delude himself into thinking that he wasn't attracted to her. He was very _much_ attracted to her. He wouldn't delude himself into thinking that he didn't like her. He _knew_ he liked her—a _lot_. Quite often, she gave him those strange fluttering feelings in his stomach, almost to the point of nausea. But he'd be damned if he'd tell _her_ that; or anybody else for that matter. He'd only said it out loud to himself once. In a whisper.

Besides. He was sure that Kagome wouldn't want anything more with him than friendship…why would she? She was so…everything that a guy could want. She wouldn't imagine ever liking him as more that that, he was sure. He wouldn't delude himself into thinking that he had a fighting chance in _that_ area. But…surely he could just look? And _imagine_ that she was his girlfriend? There was no harm in that…was there?

Without turning his head, Inuyasha strained his eyes as far to the right as he could, following the length of Kagome's legs from her toes, whose nails were painted a shiny framboise-fuchsia color, up the line of her calf muscle, to where her thighs met the edge of the cutoff shorts she wore. He bit the inside of his cheek. Damn girl was to damn…enticing…for her own good. Well…for _his_ own good, rather.

"Hey…you alright? You kind of tensed up," she said, nudging him with her bare calf.

"I'm good," Inuyasha said tightly. He shifted again. He felt her hands on his head, deftly combing her fingers through the locks. Inuyasha sighed contentedly from the stimulation on his scalp. She separated a thin piece of hair from the rest of the mane, and twirled it around her fingers.

"I'm sorry to spring it on you," she said softly. "My mom only told me a few days ago."

"You really gotta be gone a whole month?" he asked sulkily.

"You can see us off at the train station if you want," she offered, ignoring his repeated question.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I'm sure my mom won't mind…"

"Alright…if you've really gotta go…" he pouted. Kagome dropped the lock of hair, squeezed his shoulder affectionately, and hopped down from the boulder, kicking off the black flip flops she wore. Smiling at him over her shoulder, she stepped daintily into the brook. Inuyasha held his breath, and his cheeks heated. If he wasn't careful, he'd be in major trouble tonight.

Inuyasha couldn't figure out how to explain the dreams he'd been having as of late. He didn't know whether it was the hot weather that had him all in a twist, or whether his relationship with the suddenly enticing girl was to blame. All he knew was that he'd had a series of disconcerting dreams that had woken him in the middle of the night in a state of…distress. It wasn't like he'd never had…_those_ types of dreams before. He had. But as a boy going through puberty whilst living under a roof where he could scarcely _breathe_ without repercussions, he certainly hadn't…well, _acted_ on anything. The cold setting on the shower dial had become his best friend. If his father were to find out that he even _thought_ about entertaining those types of thoughts—natural or not—he'd be in major trouble.

And it wasn't like he had them all the _time. _If anything, he was _late _in terms of the whole 'sexual awakening' thing…regardless, Inuyasha never wanted to find out what his father would do if he got even an _inkling _that his son was interested in anyone. Surely he'd want to ruin it, as he'd ruined everything else in his life. So he'd lay there, pressing a cold rag to his feverish forehead in an attempt to get his scalding body under control. Damn girl was gonna give him all _kinds_ of fuel for his dreams…crap.

It wasn't as though his dreams were all that _graphic_ either…he really didn't know what to visualize if he was completely honest with himself. Aside from embarrassing chapters in the health textbook at school…he'd never actually _seen_ a naked girl. Kagome's shorts were the most skin he'd ever seen on a girl in real life. So mostly, he dreamed of what it would be like to kiss her, as he knew what her lips looked like: he'd watched them enough while she talked to him. Bland as he knew it was, because he knew there was much more to the whole…process…than what he was imagining…it excited him nonetheless.

"Come on," the girl in question beckoned from the stream, the water lapping against her ankles. Those jean shorts clung quite alluringly to her hips, Inuyasha couldn't help but notice. He bit his lip. Had her quaint peche pink t-shirt been that tight when they left the house? Had she been quite that…curvy…when the left the house? Damn, it was hot. "Don't be mad at me."

"I'm not mad at you," he wheezed. He dropped his Popsicle stick into the box, quickly grabbing another one and occupying himself, dropping his gaze. 'How upset would Kagome be,' he wondered, 'if she knew that a dirty hanyou wanted to kiss her?'

A squirt of water slapping him in the face and head snapped him out of his potentially dark thoughts.

"What the hell!" he groused, swiping a hand over his face. Kagome whipped her hands behind her back, hiding something. A bright orange handle stuck out from behind her shoulder. 'What the hell is that?' he wondered, squinting. The sneakily smiling girl sideways stepped, blocking his view of whatever she was hiding. "Kagome, what are you—"

Another blast of water shot his Popsicle right out of his hand, and it fell to the grass with a dull _thump_. Oh. It was _on_.

He could finally get a decent view of the object she held, as she held it up to her eye, aiming for him, the weapon was cocked at ready. 'Super Soaker…' he read on one of the oblong tubes. 'Oh, shit…'

She made to hold down the trigger again, and Inuyasha held up his hands.

"Kagome…Kagome think about what you're doing here…you…you don't wanna start this war—you will _not_ win," he warned, starting to rise.

"Oh, I don't, hm?" she questioned, cocking an eyebrow.

"No. No—_No!_"

She held down the trigger of the gun, blasting the shocked boy with cold streams of water as he fell, plastered against the boulder. Her maniacal laughter rang in his ears.

"Do you accept the challenge, Inuyasha?" she crowed. He growled, a playful, yet competitive gleam in his eye.

"Oh, you _know_ it."

Kagome didn't _want_ to go…not really. She loved her grandmother, really she did. But…she didn't want to leave Inuyasha. And the way he looked so forlorn, pouting as he sat there on the other end of the back seat, he made her feel bad.

Aside from that…she was truly afraid of leaving him alone with his father. Not that she was foolish enough to believe that by her being the vicinity, abuse against her friend would stop. She supposed she just felt that if Inuyasha knew where to find her, if he knew she were in her room, he would feel safer, because he knew he had someone to run to.

What if something more atrocious than normal happened while she was away? While she wasn't there to help him pick up the pieces? Of course, he'd had to pick up the pieces on his own, before she knew his secret; before she'd even met him. But she liked to think that just by her being there, she was giving him something good to hold on to; something to serve as a catalyst for his repair. She'd never forget the first time he'd taken her up on her offer; the first time he'd spent the night. Kami knows it had taken him almost two and a half months to do it.

* * *

She'd just dropped him off on the service drive near his house, as he still didn't want her to come near it, even if she _had_ discovered his secret. He said he didn't want to risk his father seeing her, which Kagome supposed made sense. But about an hour and a half later, he'd shown up outside of her window tapping agitatedly at the glass, claiming that he left a notebook that he'd need to study for his finals. Which he had. But he'd been so obvious about it, that Kagome had the feeling he'd left the notebook behind on purpose, to have an excuse to come back. Not that she minded or anything…She _wanted_ him to come to her. She _wanted_ to take care of him.

Did he really think that she wouldn't notice how banged up he was upon his return? Did he think she wouldn't notice the fresh bruise on his temple? The raw skin on his collarbone? The way he couldn't quite bend his wrist all the way without grimacing? He'd dallied in her room, talking about everything, yet nothing. Kagome had gotten his hint; she understood the question he could not ask, but obviously wanted to so badly.

"Inuyasha…"

"Hm?" He'd looked so nervous, keyed up, anticipatory.

"You can stay the night if you want," she'd told him softly. He had looked as though he'd wanted to protest, if only for appearances sake. But he didn't. He sighed, relieved.

"Thanks," he murmured.

She'd wanted to treat his wounds. He wouldn't let her. He wouldn't even allow her to press an ice pack to the bump on his head or on the wrist that was quickly swelling. He wouldn't allow her to share the bed, and he _certainly _didn't allow her to give it to him completely. All he'd allowed her to do was give him a blanket to spread on the floor and a pillow. And he seemed quite content to just recline parallel to her bedside.

She lay in her bed, watching his handsome face go slack with sleep, feeling strangely nostalgic and protective. She strengthened her resolve, and Kagome began to formulate a plan…

So many times had she approached her mother, ready to spill everything; she wanted to bounce ideas off of someone, get things out of her system. But she'd refrained. There was no way she could betray Inuyasha's fragile trust in her. She knew all too well how difficult it was for him to trust people; the fact that he'd put the precious gift of his trust in her no small feat. Even still, Kagome wondered if it would be best for her to get feedback from someone much wiser than herself; her mother seemed the perfect candidate, as her grandfather was only a tad bit senile. She'd tried the hypothetical approach the day after Inuyasha had slept over, feeling resolved after watching him sleep so peacefully. Her mother was perceptive, and Kagome wasn't sure how much she'd gotten past the woman.

"Mom…"

"Yes, Dear."

"Say…say you have this friend. Actually—in this book I'm reading, there's this bo—girl. There's this girl."

"Mm-hm. What about her?"

"Well…she, um…say she's got a really bad situation at home. Like…her fa—Uncle! Uncle. Her uncle hits her…yeah. Her uncle hits her and…well, everything at home sucks, basically," Kagome blurted.

"I see," her mother said contemplatively, leaning forward on her elbows on the kitchen table.

"Yeah. Everything's horrible, and the bo—I mean, the girl—doesn't know what she can do. She's really confused, and vulnerable, even though she'd never admit it," Kagome rambled. "He—She! She's a really sweet girl, too. She deserves a lot better, you know? Because, I mean, who deserves that? Nobody!"

"Of course not," Ms. Higurashi agreed, shaking her head.

"So…so the girls' got this friend, right? And…he—the friend—he's been helping her. You know, he's been _there_ for her and everything; just trying to be her friend. And…well, the boy eventually found out. About the da—er, uncle. The boy found out about the uncle, and now she—he—he doesn't know what he should do."

"As far as his friend goes?"

"Right. The girl doesn't call the police because she thinks that they won't care…she's got a, um…a very bad self-image. She thinks she's worthless, when she's _totally_ not—she's totally hot and—" Kagome stopped when her mother gave her a curious look.

"This is a book?"

"Er…well…" Kagome cringed and winced. "The, um…the other characters in the book describe her as, um, pretty. You know—hot. The uh…the friend, the boy—he thinks she's hot…" she muttered, trailing off.

"I see. Continue," Ms. Higurashi said, mulling over this information.

"Yeah…so…so the girl doesn't think any of the authorities would care about her situation. And she can't emancipate her self, because no one would hire her for a job, and—"

"And why is that?"

"Because, she…uh…she's got a bad back…and…and lots of allergies," Kagome explained with another wince. The woman nodded.

"Ah."

"Yeah. So she can't get any work…But…the boy was thinking that maybe…maybe it would be better for the girl to move in with him and his family…for her sake," Kagome finished. She gave her mother a sheepish look, positive that the woman was about to call her on her bluff. "What do you…rather…do you think that's a good thing for the boy to do? I mean, if his family agreed to it and everything?"

Ms. Higurashi was silent for a long stretch of time, her brow wrinkled. Kagome cringed; she blew it. She could feel it. She _knew_ she was a bad liar, and now was no different than any other time.

"Is the boy aware of all of the consequences of his actions? Is he aware of all the legal tape he'd have to get through to get the girl to live with him?" she asked quietly.

"Yes. He's fully aware of everything. He…he wants her to be safe. He cares for her very much," Kagome said with earnest.

"Perhaps the boy should speak with the girl before he takes any major steps for her sake," she suggested with a knowing smile and a twinkle in her eye. "All this runaround for a book, Kagome?"

"Oh…yeah! It's, um…for school," she lied quickly. "Thanks, Mom," Kagome said, pressing a kiss to the woman's temple.

"You're welcome, Sweetheart. And Kagome?" she called as the girl was on her way out of the kitchen.

"Hm?"

"Next time Inuyasha sleeps over, maybe you should get out the air mattress. Or at least give him a few extra blankets, Sweetie. I'm sure he doesn't want to sleep on the hard floor."

Kagome's jaw dropped. How had she known Inuyasha had stayed over? Kagome was positive he'd been almost silent…

"Oh…okay, Mom…" she said dazedly, walking away quickly so that the woman would hopefully not notice how caught off-guard she was. The woman was damned perceptive, and Kagome was pretty sure she hadn't fooled her with all her poorly-disguised hypotheticals.

* * *

Watching the back of the woman's head from her seat, Kagome was absolutely positive that she was aware of Kagome's eventual intent: to ask Inuyasha to stay with them. All she had to do now was find the nerve…perhaps she'd find it while she was at her grandmother's house for a month.

She looked at the boy in question. He was battling Souta in what had to be their fiftieth thumb war.

"One, two, three, four, I declare a Thumb War. Five, six, seven, eight, try to keep your thumb straight!" the two chanted in unison for the umpteenth time. Kagome smile fondly and shook her head as they twisted and wriggled their arms in an attempt to gain the advantage.

"I play winner," she said playfully. Inuyasha's eyes snapped to hers, and two seconds later, Souta was whining in his defeat.

"No fair," he pouted, crossing his arms. He eyed the two teenagers as they shifted to battle each other. A sly smile covered his face. "You guys just wanna hold hands," he teased. Kagome glared at him as her fingers and Inuyasha's interlocked for the imminent war. Souta gave her a big, cheesy grin. "Kagome and Inuyasha, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-gnghn!" Kagome promptly clapped her other hand over the boy's entire face, her palm covering his mouth. His wet tongue sliding on her hand made her repel.

"Ew, Souta, _gross_!" she screeched, snatching her hand back and roughly wiping his spit on his shirt. The boy giggled and stuck his tongue out as far as he could. Kagome let out an annoyed growl and flicked the tip of his tongue hard with her middle finger. He quickly retracted it, clamping a hand over his mouth.

"Ow! Mom! Kagome hurt me!" he wailed plaintively, quickly fixing her with a Wet Willie.

"Souta! You're so disgusting! Kami!" she shrieked, furiously scrubbing her offended ear with the collar of her shirt.

"Okay, okay, cut it out you two. It's going to be a long train ride if you don't," the woman said lightly with a chuckle. Kagome looked over to Inuyasha, who was eyeing her out of the corner of his eye, a mirthful gleam in them. His mouth was twisted, as he was biting the inside of his cheek, a laugh just barely restrained.

"That's not funny, Inuyasha."

"Yeah it is."

"No, it's not."

"Yeah, Kagome. It really is," he snorted his laugh. Kagome finally relented and laughed too. Kami, she was going to miss him.

He didn't want to say it, but she knew he'd miss her as well.

"I promise, I'll call you everyday," she assured him, as she tossed a light summer dress onto the pile on her bed. She was beginning to think she'd need another suitcase.

"You can't _call_," Inuyasha drawled, fiddling with the various objects on her dresser. He sniffed at a bottle of her body spray, and gave it a curious look before replacing it. "My dad'll definitely notice if he sees calls from fucking _Hokkaido_ on the bill."

"Oh…you're right…" she admitted. She stuffed the dress along with a few more pairs of shorts into the already jam-packed suitcase.

"Of course I am," he snorted. "You're gonna be gone and I'm gonna—hey, do you actually use this stuff?" he asked, interrupting himself. Kagome looked to where he held up a small container of body glitter.

"No, not really. It kind of itches."

"Hm," he grunted, as if in deep thought. He stuck a finger into the glitter, and grimaced at it, wiping it on his jeans. Kagome shook her had, biting back a smile. He was so odd sometimes.

"Anyway. Like I was saying, you're gonna be gone, and I'm not gonna have shit to do."

"What about e-mail?" she asked suddenly. She couldn't believe she'd never thought about. "Yeah, write your e-mail address down on that over there," she motioned to her desk.

"I don't' have one. And anyway, I don't have a computer…" mumbled. He picked up a brightly colored magazine. "Who's _this_?" he asked with distaste, wrinkling his nose at the shirtless man on the cover. He held the magazine between his thumb and forefinger, away from him, as if it were diseased.

"Oh…that's Orlando Bloom…he's an actor. From America," she said quickly, inexplicably embarrassed for herself. Inuyasha eyed the magazine, his lips twitching in a frown.

"Why do you have a picture of him?"

"Um… 'cause he's hot?" she said slowly, holding up her hands in a slow shrug. Her cheeks reddened under Inuyasha's scrutiny.

"Huh. I see," he said slowly. He put the magazine back down, and put a hand to his own stomach. She didn't miss the quick glance he shot at the mirror. Kagome, to say the least, was a bit nonplussed at _that_ reaction. He moved on to shake the magic eight ball that sat on her dresser, shifting his weight to one leg.

"So, anyway…the email thing," she announced loudly. He could get her so off topic when he wanted to… "We could set one up for you. That way we could keep in touch, okay?"

"But what about a computer? Don't have one, remember?" he reminded absently as he shook the plastic toy. He perked up at whatever fortune had shown up in the window, and shook it again. This time, apparently, the little hexagonal shape inside wouldn't turn to reveal a message; it was stuck on a point. He shrugged and set it down.

"You can check it at the library. You do have a library card, right?"

And that was how Inuyasha became one of the millions of Yahoo users, reluctantly as colorcrazy07. He'd told her that he, personally thought that it was a stupid name, but he allowed Kagome to come up with his username, because honestly, he had no idea what to say for it. Plus, according to him, it was a lot better than the others she'd come up with. He'd absolutely _refused_ to allow her to call him 'puppyearedpainter2007' or 'artsyfartsy03'.

Kagome watched Inuyasha's face absolutely drop as they pulled into the vast parking lot of the Tokyo Train Station. They all piled out of the car, and when she struggled to yank her suitcase out of the pile in the trunk, Inuyasha quite gallantly yanked it out for her and insisted that he'd carry it, though he avoided her eyes. Kagome took his hand in hers, interlacing their fingers.

"Don't be so bluesy," she pleaded looking up at him.

"I'm not bluesy," he said sulkily.

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are too…Come on…don't see me off all pouty."

"Okay, okay…" Kagome leaned into him, laying her head on his shoulder briefly as they allowed her family to walk ahead of them to where the shiny silver bullet train was boarding.

"It's only four weeks. And I'll email everyday, remember? I promise."

"I'll know if you don't," he warned, looking at her hard. "I'll check." Kagome didn't doubt it.

"I promise I will. There'll be so many emails from me, you'll be sick of hearing about my day," she teased, straightening the black bandana that covered his ears. She fondly smoothed his ponytail and smiled.

"No, I won't," he said seriously, looking intently into her eyes. Kagome's breath caught.

"Come on, Kagome! I'm sorry, Sweetie, but we're late boarding already!" her mother called, beckoning her over to where the conductor was checking their luggage. Inuyasha sighed, and held her suitcase out to her. Steeling a glance back at her family, and knowing that Souta would tease her relentlessly about it later, Kagome ignored the proffered suitcase and threw her arms around his neck.

"Be safe, okay?" she whispered.

"Uh-huh," he grunted, his arms slowly reciprocating the action around her waist.

"I'm gonna miss you so much." She felt is throat work against her shoulder.

"Y-yeah, me too," he whispered hoarsely.

"Kagome!" her grandfather called.

Steeling her nerves, she squeezed him once more before tiptoeing and pressing her lips against the underside of his jaw, just at the pulse point. She smiled against his skin when she felt him stiffen immediately, his arms locking up around her. Lingering for perhaps longer than was necessary, Kagome let her arms slip from his neck, and pulled away.

"Kah—!"

"Bye, Inuyasha," she said with a blush and a wink, and trotted off to join her family, suitcase in hand.

* * *

Inuyasha didn't know how long he stood on that train platform; he'd been in an almost comatose state of shock. He hadn't been able to see her through the tiny windows of the train, but that hadn't stopped him from staying until it left and disappeared from sight. Very slowly, he reached up to touch the underside of his jaw, brushing it just barely with the pads of his fingers; he didn't want to wipe her touch away.

"Holy shit," he whispered to no one. His mouth stretched into a close-lipped smile. She'd kissed him…she'd actually _kissed_ him! He bit his lip, still smiling. The flood of heat that rushed through him at the feel of her warm mouth hadn't left him. He was almost grateful that she'd had to leave when she did—he didn't know _what_ to say to her after something like that. He hadn't gotten the chance to _return_ the favor either…that was probably for the best as well…if given the chance, he wouldn't have exactly known what he was doing…'Why did she _do_ that?' he wondered. Could it mean…could it mean that she might actually like _him_ too? He blushed at the thought, then allowed his smile to widen further. It was a possibility.

But why?

* * *

"Inuyasha! Imagine seeing _you_ here! What's up, Buddy?" Miroku greeted, throwing his hands up and out in mock surprise. He'd startled the other teen, whose face had been quite intently glued to the computer screen.

"_Fuck_!" he cursed in a whispered hiss. He turned wide eyes on the enthusiastic boy that had surprised him. "What the _hell_, Miroku…" he grumbled. Miroku plopped into the rolling chair next to him, leaning an elbow on the desk.

"What are you doing?" he asked. Inuyasha blushed, sending a darting glance to the computer screen. He minimized his window. It was really none of Miroku's business that he was checking for an email from Kagome…for the third time…that day…

"Keh! Nothing…" he grumbled. Miroku smiled unnervingly.

"Nothing at all?"

"No…"

"Are you looking up dirty pictures?" Miroku asked, waggling his eyebrows up and down. Inuyasha choked on his own spit, his eyes widening, and blushing even harder.

"What? _No_!" he hissed.

"Lemme see," Miroku insisted, craning his neck to see Inuyasha's screen.

"I'm not looking up pictures!" Inuyasha insisted, staving the boy off with his forearm and glancing frantically around at the adjacent computer users. He maximized the window with his email login screen. "See! Kami!" he exclaimed in a harsh whisper, pointing at the screen.

"Oh…darn it. I thought you might have figured out how to get past the filters…" Miroku said sulkily, disappointed.

"You're deranged," Inuyasha told him bluntly. Miroku shrugged and smiled.

"Yeah, I know. Sango keeps telling me. Kagome too…and now you. Totally used to it. So. Anyway, you wanna hang?" he asked.

"Uh…o-okay. Doing what?"

"I want to go see that new movie, _The Incorrigible…_" Miroku said, suddenly staring off into the distance. Inuyasha looked over his shoulder, and didn't see anything interesting.

"What's it about?" he asked. Miroku frowned and threw up his hands.

"Who cares? Umeko Bando is in it!" he exclaimed. Inuyasha raised an eyebrow.

"Who's that?" Miroku's eyes nearly bugged out of his skull, and he slapped a hand dramatically over his heart.

"Sacrilege! You don't know who Umeko _Bando_ is?"

"Uh…no…"

"She's only the hottest woman on the planet!" Miroku looked deeply into Inuyasha's eyes, and grabbed his shoulders. "Inuyasha, my friend, I am about to introduce you to _real_ cinema," he said solemnly. "Now log off of that computer and let's go!"

* * *

"Oh…Kami…" Inuyasha gaped as he and Miroku exited the movie theatre. He gave Miroku an incredulous look. "I can't believe you just took me to see that…"

"Oh, come _on_, Inuyasha. It wasn't _porn_," Miroku laughed. "She had on a bikini. It wasn't like she was _naked_…pity," Miroku said contemplatively. He snickered at the other boy. "Did you almost get a nosebleed?"

"_No_," Inuyasha emphasized, crossing his arms.

"Pretty amazing, wasn't it?" Miroku asked with a contented sigh. "She's hot, isn't she?"

"I guess…" Inuyasha said quietly.

"You _guess_? What do you mean you _guess_?" Miroku choked. "What are you, _blind_?"

"No…she was okay…"

"Okay? Just _okay_?"

"Yeah, she was okay!" Inuyasha huffed. Miroku shrugged.

"Okay, okay, fine. So maybe Umeko isn't your type. She's a bit…exotic…for some men's taste…what about…" Miroku tapped his chin as he perused the crowded lobby of the movie theatre. Inuyasha groaned inwardly. "Her? In the orange?"

"Uh…"

"You know what? Don't even say anything. I'll be right back. Stay here," Miroku instructed.

"Miroku, wait—" Inuyasha started. He was gone. He'd zipped off into the throng of chattering teenagers. Inuyasha huffed a sigh and leaned against the wall. 'That guy is ridiculous,' he thought with a wan smile. 'Can't go _anywhere_ without him hitting on some girl—'

"Well hello there," an annoyingly high-pitched voice chirped quite close to him. Under his bandana, Inuyasha flattened his ears. 'Kami, I hope _she_ moves along quick,' he thought with a wince. The frequency of her voice was enough to give him a headache. He felt bad for the guy she was speaking to—He felt a tap on his elbow.

"I said _hello there_," the voice said again. Inuyasha turned and gaped. 'She's talking to _me_?' Miroku came up behind the girl, grinning devilishly.

"Inuyasha, this is _Michi_. She goes to me and Sango's school. Michi, this is my good buddy Inuyasha," Miroku said smoothly, moving his eyebrows up and down at the boy opposite him. The look of shock and utter horror on Inuyasha's face was almost enough to double him over with laughter. 'Priceless,' he thought.

"Uh…hi?"

"Miroku here says you're quite the ladies' man," she said, a large smile pulling her mouth wide. She smacked a wad of off-white gum between her lips. Inuyasha's eyes widened.

"_Huh_? No, no, I'm not—"

"Inuyasha, don't be so modest, you sly dog, you," Miroku drawled. "He knows every trick in the book. Ladies run to him from all over, _trust_ me." He winked at Michi. She tittered annoyingly.

"Is that so, _Inuyasha_?" the girl enunciated. Inuyasha blanched, glanced at Miroku over her head.

"You can do it!" he mouthed enthusiastically. Inuyasha gave him the coldest death glare he could manage. Miroku frowned. "Talk to her! She's hot!" he mouthed, a big, cheesy grin on his face, making gestures to his chest and then pointing to the short girl before him. Inuyasha winced. '_I_ don't know what to say!' he thought. Inuyasha sighed. He really just wanted her to go away. Her voice was making his brain throb, and she was wearing too much perfume; it was practically burning his nose hairs off.

"I don't think—"

"Hm. Cute. Cool contacts, where'd you get them? I didn't even know they made them that color."

"Well…"

"I got mine in this little strip mall in the Usagi district. They were like, half-off, I swear, I was so excited—"

"They're not contacts," he interrupted. She raised an over-tweezed eyebrow.

"No?"

"No."

"Are you a demon? Hot! I've never been with a demon before," she purred, pursing her lips.

"Half," he said briefly, and watched her reaction. 'That ought to get her to go away,' he thought grimly. Her face froze and she squinted at him.

"Oh…um…"

"Don't worry about it. I'm interested in someone anyway," he said quietly, and promptly grabbed Miroku by the bicep, and dragged him away.

"I'm going to murder you," he growled at the boy.

"Why'd you do that to poor Michi?" Miroku asked indignantly, looking past him to the girl who'd already vacated the area. Inuyasha growled lowly, shaking his head and beginning to walk away. "She was so cute…so hot…so…so…._gifted_," Miroku stressed. He clasped his hands in front of his mouth and said a silent prayer. "Forgive him, Michi. For Inuyasha knows not of the hotness that he has just passed up," he said sorrowfully. Inuyasha gave him a look out of the corner of his eye. Miroku eyed him. And the two burst out laughing.

* * *

"What about her? There's no _way_ you can tell me she's not hot," Miroku proclaimed, pointing triumphantly to another bikini-clad woman, sunning herself on the beach. Inuyasha glanced at the magazine briefly.

"She's alright," he said. Miroku's jaw dropped.

"What is _wrong_ with you, man!" he cried, holding the magazine to his heart. "You…you're not right in the head," Miroku said solemnly, shaking his head tragically. Inuyasha snickered as he peeked into the dry terrarium that took up three-quarters of Miroku's desk.

"Where's the snake?" he asked.

"You see! You see! You're more interested in Ryu than half-naked women! There's something wrong with that, man. Something gravely wrong. And there's no snake, it's a monitor lizard."

"Really?" Inuyasha looked behind a sizeable rock. There laid a svelte-sage speckled lizard. It blinked lazily at him, one eye, and then the other. Its back tongue darted in and out of the tiny hole in its lips. "Cool."

"You are the strangest guy I've ever met," Miroku told him solemnly. Inuyasha shot him an almost wounded look, and he quickly recanted. "No, not because of that! Oooh…sorry. I mean because…well…most guys our age are, well…like me. Crazy into girls and—oh…are…are you gay?"

"No!" Inuyasha exclaimed. "I'm not _gay_…I like girls…" he mumbled, watching the lizard shuffle clumsily along the mulch in the terrarium.

"But you hardly even _looked_ at the ones in the—"

"I like girls," Inuyasha insisted, a little more forcefully this time. "I do."

"Just…not _these_ girls," Miroku assumed.

"…yeah."

"Why do I get the feeling that you're interested in someone a little more…familiar, shall I say? A raven-haired photographer who lives in a shrine…" Miroku guessed, trailing off leadingly. Inuyasha stiffened. "Ah! Touched a nerve?"

"Keh! What do _you_ know?" Inuyasha mumbled. He tapped the glass with a claw, and the monitor lizard hissed, nipping at his finger through the glass.

"Hah!" Miroku exclaimed. "I _knew_ it! I _knew_ you liked Kagome! I could _so_ tell!" he crowed in triumph. "Just wait till I tell her…"

"No! You can't!"

"Why not?"

"B-because!"

"Because why? Don't you _want_ her to know?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I just _don't_, alright?"

"…Can I tell Sango?"

"No!"

"Why not?"

"Because she'll tell Kagome!"

"I think she should know," Miroku said loftily.

"I don't _want_ her to know."

"I think she likes you too," Miroku said in a sing-song tone. Inuyasha froze, and looked at him.

"You lie."

"Nu-uh. I never lie," Miroku said seriously, looking into his eyes from where he lay reclined on the bed, bikini magazine propped up on his stomach.

"That's a lie right there," Inuyasha said dryly, and resumed tapping on the glass.

"No it's not!"

"Yeah it is."

"Sango said she does," Miroku sniffed defensively.

"She did?"

"Yup. And _nobody_ knows Kagome better than Sango. Except…maybe you…"

Inuyasha thought on this. She _had_ kissed him just before she got on the train…perhaps Miroku and Sango were right? He didn't dare to hope. The _last_ time he'd liked a girl, it hadn't gone terribly well, and he would never forget that.

* * *

He had no idea how it had gotten around the school. He hadn't whispered a word of it to anyone, hadn't written her name in his notebook whilst daydreaming in class, or even made any attempt to speak to her aside from the passing 'Hi,' in the morning as they both went to their respective lockers. Yet somehow, some way, it was the gossip on everyone's lips: The freshman hanyou likes the transfer student from Matsudaira High. It was a scandal.

He cursed his last name. If it weren't for his last name, he'd have never seen her, never met her. But they followed so closely in the alphabet: Kikyou Chiba, Inuyasha Chikamatsu. After all, that was how locker assignments were given out. And so, he'd ended up two lockers away from her, and over the course of a month or two, after seeing how apparently benevolent and compassionate she was, not to mention how pretty she was, he developed a little bit of a crush, his first.

He wasn't so stupid as to think that she'd ever actually be interested in him. After all: she was pretty, smart, and a junior. He was a half-breed, a loner, and a freshman. She was two years older, a half a foot taller, and, so it seemed, light years more advanced in…well…_everything_. Inuyasha was sure that she didn't have the exposure to violence that he had, but she was one of those people who just _seemed_ more mature than everyone around them, even their peers. So he hadn't deluded himself into thinking that he had a shot; he was content to watch from afar.

Which was why he was shocked the day she approached him one Friday after school while he was putting his books away.

"It's Inuyasha, right?" she asked him suddenly, shutting her locker door and sauntering slowly over to his. He did a double take, his algebra book almost slipping from his fingers.

"M-m-me?" he gaped, poking his own chest. She smiled and tilted her head cutely.

"You're the only one in the hall, aren't you? And certainly the only Inuyasha."

"Uh-huh," he grunted dumbly.

"I'm Kikyou," she introduced needlessly, holding out her hand. "We haven't really talked much." Inuyasha gawked at her outstretched hand, and she smiled at him, the area around her eyes crinkling as she did so. "Well, shake it, silly," she prompted. Inuyasha quickly tucked the math book under his arm and lightly gripped her hand in his. Her hand was slender, smooth, and cool to the touch. His was…well…hot and sweaty. He blushed hotly and clumsily wiped his hands on his jeans.

"Sssorry," he mumbled embarrassedly. She laughed a bit.

"That's alright. Nervous?"

"Mm-hm."

"Why?" she questioned. He glanced up at her before averting his gaze again.

"Kinda…Kinda like you," he muttered, barely audible.

"So I've heard," she smiled. She shifted her weight to one foot, and put a hand on her hip. "So do you want to go out?"

"Do I want to _what_?"

"Go out. With me. To dinner," Kikyou elaborated.

Inuyasha's arm went slack and he promptly dropped the algebra book, which in turn, landed corner-side down on his foot.

"_Ow, shit!_" he hissed painfully, his toes curling inside of his sneaker. His face burned intensely in his embarrassment. He'd been so awkward then; gangly, and not quite grown into his feet and hands yet. His arms had been disproportionately long, and if all that weren't enough, he was quite clumsy. That hodgepodge of awkwardness showed itself quite plainly to Kikyou that day in the hall.

"Are you okay?" she asked around muffled giggles. He looked up to see her pressing her lips together in an attempt not to laugh at him full-force. He kicked the accursed book aside.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he wheezed. Could this get any worse?

"So, dinner. How about it? Bankotsu and Momiji—do you know them?"

"Yeah. I mean, not _personally_, but I know who they are…"

"Right. So they're going to that new Italian restaurant that's near here…you know the one?"

"Um…no…"

"Oh, well I'll give you directions. Anyway, it's a double. And I didn't have anyone to go with, so I figured maybe you'd like to go with me?"

"A-are you serious?" Inuyasha asked, squinting at her. There was no way she was serious…she couldn't be—

"Of course I am," she smiled.

"Why me?"

"Why not? I didn't really have anyone particular in mind, so why not? You seem like a sweet guy," she reasoned. Inuyasha blushed. "So do you want to go?"

"Y-yeah…" he stammered, fiddling with the edge of his shirt. He allowed a small smile to tug at the corners of his mouth.

"Do you need me to pick you up or anything?"

"N-no, I can get there…"

"Great. Here's the address…" she said, scribbling it down on a sheet of notebook paper she produced. "There you go. We're meeting at six tomorrow night, okay? See you there!" And she walked away, leaving Inuyasha to watch her retreating form.

He'd been a nervous wreck when he entered the restaurant. He'd never been to such a nice place; it was obviously expensive. And he felt horribly underdressed. He smoothed out his black button up shirt as best he could, and glanced around the intimately lit dining room.

"There you are," Kikyou said, coming up to him, seemingly out of nowhere. Inuyasha wanted to speak; he wanted to tell her how pretty she looked—wanted to tell her thanks again for inviting him. But he couldn't get his tongue unglued from the roof of his mouth. "Well, come on, Momiji and Bankotsu are waiting," she urged, leading him through the maze of tables to their booth near the rear of the restaurant. He slid into the seat after her, sitting across from the severe looking Bankotsu. He didn't think he could sweat more if he were running a marathon. "Momiji, Bankotsu, you all know Inuyasha. Inuyasha, these are my friends Momiji and Bankotsu," Kikyou introduced. Inuyasha tried to smile, but his lips were stuck quite securely to his gums, and so he ended up giving the couple a sick-looking grimace. Momiji laughed.

"Kikyou, oh, this is just _perfect_," she emphasized. "He's just so _cute_," she squealed, and Inuyasha ducked his head to hide his blush.

"Oh, ya, just _adorable_," Bankotsu drawled, rolling his eyes. Inuyasha could suddenly feel his youth with ten times more intensity than before. Throughout the night, there were several times he would feel that; feel as though he were quite the youngster among a group of older, wiser, and more sophisticated adults. At times he felt as though he were just outside of a joke they were telling; as though he weren't too quick on the uptake, and was missing some crucial punchline.

Besides that, he was nervous. He kept himself busy when he had nothing to say by chugging down the cranberry juices that the waitress kept bringing like there was no tomorrow. He wanted to impress them so much; after all, they _were_ the popular kids—what kid at their school _didn't_ want to impress Momiji, Bankotsu, and Kikyou? He only hoped he was doing alright. But he didn't dwell on that; Kikyou and Momiji were being so nice to him. They kept telling him that he was 'so _cute_' or 'just _adorable'._ For what reason, he didn't know.

"Maybe you could even eat lunch at our table sometime," Bankotsu suggested offhandedly as he speared a piece of broccoli. Inuyasha perked up at the prospect of future friends.

"Really?"

"Yeah. You're a pretty cool kid," he said lightly.

"I know, isn't he?" Kikyou agreed, giving him a once over.

It wasn't long before Inuyasha was forced to excuse himself to go the restroom, as embarrassing as it was. He had no idea that cranberry acted as a natural diuretic, and he was definitely feeling the effects.

Business taken care of, he returned to the table, almost cheerful. He knew better than to think that Kikyou wanted him as a boyfriend; but, friendship, perhaps? There was nothing wrong with that. And maybe, just maybe, if Kikyou was his friend, then others wouldn't be so afraid of him or so disgusted by him. Maybe if she could set the example, then the rest would follow, and he could find acceptance. His heart warmed at the prospect.

The table was empty. Inuyasha looked at it, confused. Perhaps he'd gotten the two sides of the restaurant mixed up? 'Must have gotten turned around when I came out of the bathroom,' he mused. He glanced across the tables to the mirror image of the half of the restaurant he was standing in. No…that couldn't be right….there was an elderly couple seated there. Inuyasha looked back at the table, the half-eaten meals still in place, dirty napkins on one plate. 'Oh…oh no…don't tell me—'

"Looking for someone?" a voice came from behind him. Their waitress.

"Um…yeah…you do remember the people who were sitting here, right?" he asked apprehensively. She nodded. "Right…do you know where they went? I mean, they didn't—"

"Oh, they left," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "It was two girls and a boy, right? The boy had a really long ponytail, right?" Inuyasha nodded mutely. "Yeah, they left. In a hurry too…" Inuyasha's shoulders slumped. A cold feeling entered his stomach, and he stiffened, closing his eyes. "…I guess this leaves _you_ with the bill," the waitress said, scribbling in her notepad and then handing it to him. Inuyasha's eyes flicked to the total, and he gawked.

"Wh—? I…"

"What's the problem?"

"I…I don't have nearly enough," he muttered sadly, handing her the slip of paper back. The waitress shrugged.

"Tough break, kid. Then I guess you're going to have to give me what you do have. You're going to have to do quite a few hours of dishes to make up the rest," she warned. "Come with me."

"My dad's gonna kill me," Inuyasha whispered fearfully to himself. As the manager set him up with a pair of gloves, a scrub brush, hair net and a sink full of sudsy dishes, Inuyasha beat himself up. 'How could you be so damned _stupid_?' he raged, slapping the water. 'Like this would actually be _real_. Fucking _moron_.'

The walk home had been a tortuous one. Over dinner, Kikyou had offered to be his ride home; since she and her friends had ditched him, he had to walk all the way to his house. A bus was out of the option, since all of his money, bills and pocket changed, had gone towards the tiny dent he'd made in the dinner bill. All the way home, all he could think about was the inevitably horrible punishment he was going to receive. His dishwashing had taken hours, and now…now his father was bound to be furious beyond all belief with him. He shuddered despite himself. He could almost feel the blows now….

On Monday, he'd been greeted with the sight of his image, hundreds of times over, clad in a hair net, apron and soapsuds all over the halls of Uboshita High. He pulled his hood low over his head, and braved the hallways as the laughter from students and chuckles of teachers and administrators rang loudly in his ears. He made eye contact with no one. He spoke to no one. He didn't bother ripping down the fliers; there were too many for him to handle. Over and over and over, his image appeared before his eyes, hair bound into the silly-looking net. 'Dine-and-Dash Victim' the caption read.

"And if you could have seen the look on his face!" Bankotsu's raucous voice rang out amongst the throng of chattering teens, eager to gather close and hear the story. As inconspicuously as possible, Inuyasha spun his locker combination.

"He was completely in! He totally thought we wanted to hang out with him!" Momiji exclaimed. Inuyasha's ears burned, as did his cheeks. He swallowed thickly as he pulled out his necessary books for that morning.

"There's my favorite little freshman," Kikyou's smooth voice purred. "How was your weekend?" she asked. Inuyasha ceased his motions and looked up from his task. The throng of teenagers had shifted to encapsulate him and Kikyou. Inuyasha didn't respond; he only ducked his head in shame, wishing that she would just go away. He only wanted her to go away and leave him alone. Hadn't she done enough? He didn't need to know the details; it was painfully clear what her intentions had been from the beginning, seeing her now. She'd devised a little ruse to get him into an embarrassing situation, and then, in true popular-girl form, she'd taken pictures and plastered the school with them. Uboshita's popular population clearly approved of her little joke, as they now flanked her, snickering under their breath. She'd been accepted into their fold: the price of admission? One mortified hanyou.

"What, you don't want to talk to me now? What's the matter, Inuyasha? You nervous?" she smirked. He kept his eyes trained on the ground. Did she absolutely _have _to embarrass him more? Was it absolutely necessary? "Hope you had fun with those dishes the other night. Oh! And thanks for dinner. Really nice of you to treat us all. You're such a _big-spender_!" she tittered. Inuyasha growled. She prattled on and on with her sarcasm, carrying on about how _gullible_ he was, and how _pathetic_ he was to actually think that she'd want _anything_ to do with him, until finally, she fell quiet.

"Are you done?" he ground out from between clenched teeth.

"Yeah. Sure. Why?" she asked smugly.

"I just thought I'd take the time to tell you what a massive _bitch_ you are," he hissed, his words harsh and clipped. "_Fuck _you, Kikyou," he growled. And then, he drew back a fist and sent it slamming into the locker behind her, leaving a sizeable dent in the metal not even a foot away from her head.

She'd screamed. The crowd screamed. He hadn't cared. He hated them all.

* * *

He _had_ ended up caring however; he'd been expelled from Uboshita for _that_ little move. Damage to school property and all that jazz. His father, needless to say, had punished him into the next month for being kicked out of _another_ school. Inuyasha supposed that denting a locker right next to a girl's head wasn't the best action plan he'd ever devised. But he _had _learned something from the experience.

If he didn't have the lesson 'Trust no one' engrained in his mind before, the incident with Kikyou certainly did it for him. And he hadn't trusted anyone since her. Not until Kagome.

Inuyasha knew he trusted Kagome. There was no way he could deny that he did; he'd told her more about his life than he'd ever been willing to. He knew why—the girl had somehow, inexplicably wormed her way into his heart. And he liked it that way. He _liked_ feeling that way about her.

But that didn't change the fact that he was afraid. He was afraid to tell her that he liked her. There was so much room for her to turn him down…

"I'm just not ready for her to know," he told Miroku finally.

"You miss her don't you?" he asked quietly, eyeing the suddenly pensive boy at the desk. Inuyasha heaved a sigh. Damn right! It was only a month and he knew that. And, yes, she'd been emailing everyday like she'd promised. But…but he missed _her_. He missed her scent and her warmth. He missed _looking_ at her. That picture in his flat wasn't enough. He was, he had to admit, suffering from Kagome-withdrawals.

"Yeah."

"Hey…you wanna feed it?" Miroku asked, changing topic to get Inuyasha out of his sudden melancholy. He got off of the bed to go to the tiny refrigerator in the corner of the room.

"Feed it what?"

"Mice."

"You know it."

* * *

Author's Note:

I don't know how I feel about this chapter. Let me know how _you_ feel about it. I like the beginning, and I think I like the end...I just don't know about the middle.Sorry if there's typos. It's 4 in the morning, and I haven't slept. Dunno why.

I just had a funny thought the other day of Miroku trying to hook Inuyasha up with some random girl, and thought it'd be kind of funny to see Inuyasha squirm. shrugs Then it kind of morphed into to this whole 'chick-hunting/chick-ogling guys day out' with most of he hunting/ogling being done by Miroku. :) Don't really know how I feel about the chapter, but I wanted a 'boy's night out' sort of thing in here somewhere.

Let me just say: I don't _hate_ Kikyou. I really don't. I don't particularly _care_ for her, but I don't _hate_ her. So…for this chapter, I really just needed a she-villain…and…well…why bring in a made up character when there's Kikyou: so conveniently placed…I just really don't want to get flames from Kikyou-lovers because I kind of made her a meanie in this one.

(I just like Kagome better. Admit it…she and Inuyasha make a better couple.)

Anyway. You know what to do. Drop me a line. Review.

Wowzer313


	15. Unveiling

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, Rumiko Takahashi does.

Author's Notes: Oh the beautiful, beauty of fluff!

**Chapter 15: **Unveiling

Inuyasha fiddled with the cream-colored bow that held the bundle of Easter lilies together. He was hot, and sweating buckets. His discomfort wasn't only stemming from the heat of the day, though it was well into the high eighties, and humid. There he was, on the boarding platform of the Tokyo Train Station, inhaling what he was sure was an unhealthy amount of diesel fuel vapors, and grimacing under the unnerving, unblinking stare of a six year old child whose mother was too preoccupied with her cell phone to notice that her kid was making a nuisance of himself.

"Why's your hair so long?" the child asked in an obnoxiously loud voice. Inuyasha chose to pointedly ignore the boy, hoping he'd get bored and go away. A pudgy finger poked him an area that was still all too tender, and he growled. The child was not deterred. "Hey! Hey, Mister!"

"_What_?" Inuyasha hissed lowly, shooting the kid a 'buzz off' look. He wasn't fazed.

"How come your hair's so long?" he asked again.

"Because I don't cut it," Inuyasha growled. He checked the wrought-iron clock on the platform's roof for the umpteenth time, only to find that the long hand had only moved a mere two minutes.

"Why?"

"Because I don't want to."

"Why?"

"Because it's my choice!"

"Why?"

"Because _everyone_ has a choice! Kami, shut up!" he said in a harsh whisper. The child frowned.

"That's not nice," he pouted, crossing his arms over his chest. He was not put out for long. "Those are pretty flowers. Who're they for?"

"None of your business."

"But—"

"Kaemon, what has Mommy told you about talking to strangers?" the chatty woman suddenly said to the boy.

"Not to do it," he replied, chagrined.

"That's right. Now come along. Don't you pull that pouty face with me, Mister, I've told you time and time again not to…" her voice faded into medley of sounds that filled the station. Inuyasha sighed. 'Good riddance,' he thought. He sank onto one of the uncomfortably hard wooden benches and waited.

He'd been waiting for over an hour. Her train was late. He frowned. Perhaps he'd misread her email? 'No…I read that thing a thousand times. There's no way I got the time wrong. Three o'clock, it said…' he thought, going over the email in his mind. There was no doubt about it. The train was late. And that didn't help to quell the jittery nervousness that had taken over him.

"This is so. Fucking. Stupid," he muttered to himself. What did he look like, sitting there for that long, waiting with a sweaty handful of lilies in his hand? 'A fool, that's what. A damned, class-A fool…'

The stupid flowers had _wilted_ by now…he supposed that his hand clutching the life out of them hadn't helped at all. But he was so nervous…

He'd only bought the damned flowers because Sango said that it was a good idea. She'd told him that they were Kagome's favorite. She'd given him all kinds of advice. Not that he'd necessarily _asked_ for it all…even still. She'd helped him, he supposed.

* * *

Sango was giving him that strange look again. If he was keeping track properly, he'd say it was about the eighth time that evening she'd looked at him that way. It was a calculating look, coupled with a strange type of smile that Inuyasha couldn't quite decipher…regardless, it was creepy, unnerving, and getting very annoying.

"Sango, what is the _deal_?" he burst out finally, throwing his hands up in the air exasperatedly. She smiled wider, her lips pressing into a thin line, as though she were restraining something.

"I know your secret…" she said in a sing-song voice. Inuyasha froze a fry hanging halfway out of his mouth. Kagome didn't…no…she _wouldn't—_

"What secret?" he asked around his mouthful of food. Sango covered her mouth and giggled, her eyes twinkling.

"You like Kagome!" she burst out, a big, cheesy grin on her face. Inuyasha's face froze in horror.

"Miroku!" he exclaimed, glaring at the boy who approached their booth with his refilled drink in hand. Miroku gave him an innocent look.

"What?"

"You. Are. An. _Ass_," Inuyasha growled through clenched teeth. His face burned intensely.

"Huh? What did _I_ do?" he asked with a frown, sitting next to Sango again.

"You _told_ her!"

"Told her what?"

"About Kagome!" Inuyasha exclaimed exasperatedly. Miroku's mouth opened into a little 'o' shape.

"Oh…"

"Yeah. You ass."

"Hey, I didn't tell her anything!" Miroku protested.

"You liar! You did too!"

"No I didn't!" he insisted. "Well…I mean to say…I didn't tell her _directly_…"

"See! You're an ass, Miroku. A royal ass."

"I am not! I…I didn't _mean_ to tell her indirectly…it was an accident! She…she's got _powers_, Inuyasha! Feminine wiles!" Miroku cried defensively. "I'm only a seventeen year old male, Inuyasha. Only a simple, seventeen year old male," he said solemnly, biting into his burger. "Besides. Sango already knew."

"She did no—"

"Yeah…yeah, Inuyasha, I did. Like, _weeks_ ago," Sango said sheepishly. She shrugged. "Sorry…"

"Shit…is it really that obvious?" Inuyasha asked with an embarassed grimace, half to himself, half to the others. He scratched his head, thinking hard.

"Um…yeah. Yeah, it is," Sango said bluntly, dunking a fry into the ketchup.

"Damn…you didn't…you didn't _tell_ her or anything—did you?" he asked, panicky.

"No, no, of course not. But I can if you want me to," she offered.

"No! No, don't tell her," Inuyasha burst out.

"Why not? You two would make _such_ a cute couple!" Sango gushed. Inuyasha blushed deeply at even the _notion_ of him and Kagome as a couple; it was unfathomable.

"I don't think…I mean—she probably…she wouldn't—"

"Inuyasha, I _assure _you: Kagome _likes_ you. I promise!"

"How do _you_ know?"

"Because! Kagome is my best friend in the entire world, and I just _know_ when she likes a guy. And she _definitely_ likes you."

Inuyasha contemplated this for a moment. It was true, Sango knew Kagome best. If anyone, _she'd_ be the authority on Kagome's guy-interests…aside from Kagome herself, and there was no way in _hell_ he'd ask her outright; he'd never have the guts to do something like _that_. And true, Sango had been around for Kagome's previous relationships; Inuyasha was _sure_ she'd had previous relationships—how could she not? That would give her insight on the matter.

"Even if that's true—which I doubt—what am I supposed to…you know…_do_?" he mumbled, at a loss.

"You make a move!" Miroku interjected. Inuyasha blanched, shaking his head.

"I don't think I could—"

"You don't think you could what?"

"Make a move. _Any _move. I'm not…smooth…like you are, Miroku. I couln't—"

"Oh, of course you can. It'll be easy," Sango said flippantly, waving a hand. "Besides. Miroku's not all that smooth," she teased the boy beside her with a nudge. He dropped his jaw, as though he were offended.

"_Sango_! I'll have you know I'm _very_ smooth," he said confidently. He gave her a sly, come-hither look, and Inuyasha rolled his eyes, flicking a French-fry at him. He ignored it. "You know you want me," he breathed. Leaning closer and closer, he puckered and gently kissed the tip of her nose.

"Okay! Anyways, back to Inuyasha!" she said, flustered and blushing. She gave Inuyasha a sheepish smile. "Sorry."

"She _so_ wants me," Miroku mouthed to the boy across the table, pointing to Sango. Inuyasha snickered, shaking his head.

"Nuh-uh, 'Back to Inuyasha' nothing," he mumbled.

"Of course, 'Back to Inuyasha'. We're going to come up with a plan to get you and Kagome together. Don't you worry about that."

"But I…"

"But what? What are you worried about?"

"…There's no way I'd be able to…you know…"

"No…what?" Sango asked.

"I couldn't…impress her…" he mumbled embarrassedly. He didn't particularly _want_ to talk about this…even still…he couldn't deny that he was the teensiest bit curious as to what advice Sango might give…perhaps even Miroku…

"Of course you could. And you will. If you follow the basic rules, of course," Miroku put in.

"Basic rules?"

"Yeah. GCP. Gifts, Compliments, and Personality," Sango rattled off.

"Great…"

"First. Gifts. Girls love…stuff. It's just a fact," Sango shrugged.

"Too true, too true," Miroku agreed, nodding solemnly.

"Stuff. What kind of stuff?"

"All kinds of stuff. Jewelry, clothes, chocolate…you know. Stuff," Sango elaborated. Inuyasha gulped. He knew he'd never be able to afford the things Sango was listing…not on his unsteady income. 'Okay, maybe chocolate, but honestly, how long is Kagome going to want a candy bar?' he thought sourly.

"Are you serious? I mean…that's really what girls want? That's the important stuff?" he asked with a wince.

"Oh, flowers too. Kagome really likes flowers. Especially Easter lilies. Those are her favorites."

"Keh…"

"But not just on special occasions. It's nice to get flowers just because it's Wednesday, sometimes."

"Just because it's Wednesday?" Inuyasha questioned, cocking his head to the side. "I'm just supposed to give her flowers on Wednesday?"

"No, not just on Wednesday," Sango laughed. "It's a figure of speech. I mean just because. Sometimes it's nice to get things for her just because you were thinking about her," she amended.

"Secondly. Compliments. It's practically a scientific fact that girls like being complimented."

"Also too true," Miroku interjected.

"So do it. Often," Sango instructed. "Tell her she's smart, and witty, and interesting. Girls like it when you say stuff like that. They like to feel like they're more than just nice to look at. Although…telling a girl she's beautiful can never go wrong," she added as an afterthought.

"I disagree!" Miroku interrupted, holding up a finger. "Do you remember that time in the movie theatre when I told you that you were beautiful? You slapped me!" he grumbled, pointing an accusatory finger at her. "She _slapped _me, Inuyasha. Right across the _face_."

"That's because you tried to grab my butt in the same breath! You pervert!" Sango shot back, crossing her arms in a huff.

"Oh, yeah…" Miroku breathed, staring off into the distance. "Boy, was it nice…"

"You're disgusting," Sango told him. She looked back to Inuyasha. "Okay, so I change that. Telling a girl she's beautiful can _almost_ never go wrong."

"Okay…"

"Anyway. Third. Personality. The most important thing, Inuyasha, is to be yourself. Kagome already likes you as you are, so don't go changing everything up. Just act like your same self, and you should be fine. I'm sure of it."

"Keh…"

"I think you forgot one, Sango," Miroku said, trepidation entering his voice. Inuyasha got the distinct feeling that whatever was about to come out of his mouth next would be a joke.

"What?" she asked.

"Touch," Miroku said impishly. Sango and Inuyasha choked, Inuyasha spluttering on his pop.

"Don't listen to him, Inuyasha. You know how he is: he's a pervert."

"I'm serious! Touch can be a very good relationship booster," he said with a shrug. Giving Sango a leering look, he slid his arm around her shoulders and pulled her to him. She blushed furiously and gave him a death glare, but nonetheless allowed him to gather her close in the booth seat. Miroku smirked at Inuyasha. "See?"

* * *

So, in an effort to put Sango's advice on 'GCP' to work, he'd bought the flowers in a supermarket before walking the rest of the way to the train station where he now sat in nervous anticipation. And he continually cursed the infernal heat that simply wouldn't let up.

The screeching coming from the tracks before him snapped him out of his thoughts. 'Kagome,' he thought, as the silver bullet train came to a smooth stop in from of him, the bells ringing to alert all those loitering about.

Passengers poured out by the dozens, talking animatedly as they were reunited with loved ones. Children squealed with delight as their parents scooped them up in arms, friends embraced, lovers kissed. Soon enough, the heavy flow of passengers began to wane, and people only trickled out of the train's doors. Inuyasha's face fell. Where _was_ she? Did they miss their train? Were they coming back home at a later date? He prayed not.

"Inuyasha!" came a voice. It wasn't Kagome's, and he fought a scowl. Souta jogged toward him, carrying one of the largest suckers Inuyasha had ever seen in his life. "Inuyasha, you're here, cool! It was such a long train ride, Inuyasha, I swear! And there was this baby on board, and she was just crying and crying and crying, and she wouldn't stop, and the mom just let her cry. And the conductor gave me this sucker because he said that I was being good, and I knew I was being good! I was just sitting there playing my video game and…" the kid prattled on and on. He was quite obviously high on sugar. Inuyasha smiled at him faintly and brushed a hand over his head. Where the hell was Kagome?

"Well, hello there, Sweetheart," Ms. Higurashi's soft voice called to him. Inuyasha smiled shyly. He loved it when Ms. Higurashi called him 'Sweetheart' or any other little endearment. He'd never say it, but it reminded him so much of his own mother. Kagome's mother was inherently kind and open, and he'd be damned if he didn't revel in it often, taking her sincere, motherly words and storing them away like treasures to be mulled over at a later date.

"Hi," he murmured. She smiled softly at him.

"How have you been?"

"Okay," he said briefly.

"We've missed having you around for the past four weeks. It's been strange not seeing you," she said with a laugh, gently patting the side of his face with a cool hand. Inuyasha blushed under her touch and gave a lopsided little smile. _That_ was an unarguable fact. Since he'd known, come to trust, and yearn to be around Kagome, Inuyasha had become a fixture in the Higurashi household. He wondered sometimes if he was an annoyance, and thought that perhaps he should refrain from darkening their door with his presence; but Kagome and her family had never alluded to being annoyed with him. And so, Inuyasha ate up their hospitality with vigor.

That was why he'd so desperately missed Kagome. Sango and Miroku were all well and fine, but there was not nearly the immense feeling of safety and caring that he felt when he was with Kagome and her family; perhaps that was because he hadn't been around them nearly as much. Or it could have just been the fact that Kagome was his saving grace from every terror he could imagine.

Several nights, as he recuperated from punishment and was shrouded in the silence of his room, he found himself wishing that she was in _her_ room so that he could sneak out of his own to huddle under the blankets on her floor. If anything, having Kagome around only solidified one fact in Inuyasha's mind: he _hated_ being at home.

Since school had let out, he'd concocted so many lies to tell his father in order to buy himself time away from the hell-hole, he lost track sometimes. Some days he was holed up in the library to "get ahead" for the next school year. Some times he would say that he was involved in community service for school, and Inuyasha wondered if using the community's betterment as an excuse to get away from home was morally wrong. He quickly decided that he really didn't care.

He'd even gone so far as to tell the older demon that he had a job at some obscure place, and use that as an explanation for his absences; any possible lie he could have used, he did. He knew that his father was most of the time too drunk, too over-sexed, or simply to apathetic to actually check up behind any of his fabrications.

Inuyasha was fairly certain that if his father ever found out about his double life that he'd surely kill him. And he felt strange that he had to resort to sneaking around in order to have some semblance of normalcy in his life. Usually the a web of lies similar to his in magnitude would be the cover to some unseemly, crime-laden lifestyle, full of illegalities, deceit, and treachery; never to cover up a teenage boy having some much-needed fun with friends. Even still, with all of the risks he knew he was taking, Inuyasha knew he wouldn't trade this gem he'd so haphazardly stumbled upon for anything in the world.

"I'll take this for you," he said, grabbing her suitcase.

"Thank you, Dear," she said warmly. Her eyes fell to the crumpled flowers in his hand. "Are those—oh, never mind," she laughed lightly, giving him a fond, knowing look. She reassuringly patted his shoulder and danced away, ushering Souta and Kagome's grandfather away and towards the parking lot. Inuyasha watched them go, with a wince. 'Am I _seriously_ that obvious? Kami, if I'm that transparent, Kagome must know too—'

"Inuyasha," came the musical voice he'd been waiting for. He spun around just in time to brace himself for impact as she dropped the bags she'd been struggling with and ran from the train, barreling into him and enveloping him in a fierce hug.

"Kagome," he breathed, inhaling the scent he'd missed so much…she smelled a bit like medical sterilizer, but that was okay. He brought up one hand to tentatively rest against her hair, still cool from the interior of the trains' cabin. "Kami, I missed you," he muttered into the tresses.

"I missed you too. So much," she emphasized, giving his middle a squeeze. He grunted, unable to stifle it. Her head whipped up and she looked worried. She stared at him hard. "What is it? Your side? He hurt you badly there?" she asked quickly.

"It's fine. I'm fine."

"No, you're not, you're hurt—"

"Kagome, I'm _fine_. You're back. Everything's all good," he insisted. That reminded him…He delicately extricated himself from her grip and coughed embarrassedly. Her gaze drifted down to his hand.

"Inuyasha?"

"Um…keh. Here," he stammered, abruptly shoving the bunch at her with a stiff arm. He looked away.

"Aw, Inuyasha…what are these for?" she asked. She took the bouquet from his sopping palm, the white petals now smudged with pollen and ringed with brown. The stems hung limply from her hand, where his hand had had them in a death grip. She chuckled inwardly, and bit her cheek. She would not—_could_ not—laugh at him. But he was so cute!

"You know…Keh! Just…just 'cause it's Wednesday, or whatever," he mumbled, his body temperature elevating even more from the intense blush that darkened his sweaty face.

"It's Thursday," Kagome said, frowning in confusion.

"Keh! I mean not 'cause it's _literally_ Wednesday! Just _'cause_, you know!" he ground out, frustrated. 'Damn, I screwed up…'

"That's so sweet…Inuyasha, thank you. They're beautiful," she assured him, taking his hand. He grimaced.

"You don't have to hold it…it's all wet," he mumbled, his embarrassment intense. She beamed back at him.

"It's alright. I missed you. No Inuyasha for four weeks is _not_ a good thing. Sweaty hands or not." He managed a shy smile. He continued, encouraged by her words.

"I…I got another surprise for you," he said quietly.

"Where is it?" she asked excitedly, her eyes twinkling.

"The flat." Kagome gasped.

"Is it…? Oh, can we go now?" she asked.

"I'm sure your family wants to get home first," he said with a smile. He picked up Ms. Higurashi's suitcase and then hefted the other bags Kagome had dragged onto his shoulder. She sighed impatiently, but smiled.

"Okay, fine. But once they're all settled, we're getting in my car and going."

* * *

"Alright…you ready?" Inuyasha asked, his hands covering Kagome's eyes. He hoped she was unaware of it, but his heart was rapidly tattooing in his chest. They weren't quite touching, but their proximity was so close that he could feel the heat radiating off of her skin; he was sure she could feel his.

"I've been ready for the past couple of months to see this."

"Just a simple yes or no would be fine."

"Okay. Yes, I'm ready." Inuyasha was reluctant to step away; the skin of her face was so soft under his fingers, the tips of her eyelashes just barely brushed against his palms, giving him a smattering of gooseflesh across his forearms.

He sucked in a breath and took his hands from over her eyes, and stepped back to yank away the sheet that obscured his latest work from the world. His claws poked nervous holes in the fabric that his hands so tightly clutched, as he waited with baited breath for her response. He was sure that he'd die of mortification if she hated it; that, or he'd work tirelessly to create another piece to her liking. She just _had_ to like it—he'd poured his heart and soul into it.

He wasn't quite sure if a portrait, no matter what the effort invested into it, was enough to thank Kagome for all that she'd done for him. She couldn't be aware of everything he was grateful to her for—the list was simply too long.

She wasn't saying anything. She stepped closer to the canvas, a strange look on her face; one that Inuyasha couldn't quite decipher. He bit his lip. This was _not_ good. Kagome was rarely quiet. The fact that she wasn't a geyser of conversation _now_ did not fill him with good feelings. His heart sank. Why wouldn't she _speak_? He'd been almost sure that she'd like it; she'd liked his other pieces so much…but then again, Kagome incited such powerful emotions within him, he had to admit he'd been a bit ambitious with her portrait.

"Kagome?" he started hesitantly. Her luminous umber brown eyes snapped to his, her brows wrinkling above them. "I…You…you don't l-like it, d-do you?" he asked, trepidation seeping into his voice. "I'll fix it, I promise. I'll start completely over if you want me to; I just want you to li—"

"I love it," she said seriously. A brilliant, mega-watt smile broke onto her face, rendering him almost breathless. "Inuyasha…I _love_ it." The sigh he released in relief was tremendous in its magnitude.

"You do? Kami, that's great, I thought you _hated_ it—"

"No, not at all! It's _beautiful_…if that doesn't sound vain," she laughed self-consciously, turning back to the portrait.

"You…you c-c-can afford to s-sound vain…" he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. "You're…really…pretty," he managed to get out, his voice almost a whisper. Kagome whirled around to give him an incredulous. 'You moron, that's not what Sango said to say!' he scolded himself. "No, not pretty…" he began again. Kagome's eyes widened, and he quickly backpedaled, waving his hands frantically. "I mean, yes, you _are_ pretty! You're really pretty, that's just not what I meant to say—I meant to say you're beautiful…_shit_…"

Inuyasha wasn't quite sure he'd ever blushed so intensely. He was getting quite the headache from the amount of blood that was rushing torrentially into his cheeks. Why had he listened to Sango again?

"Not that it's a bad thing, but…you're awfully sweet today," Kagome said softly, a gentle smile tugging at her lips. "Thank you…what's with all the kind words?"

"I just _feel_ like it, okay?" he said huffily, crossing his arms and turning away quickly. 'It's not like I'm doing it _right _or anything…' he thought in a sulk. Kagome smiled at his back, and then turned to examine her portrait again.

She wasn't sure that any photograph had ever so perfectly captured her features. If she'd ever wanted a reason behind Inuyasha's intensely hard stares, she now had one; he'd managed to capture every detail of her image perfectly on canvas in soft, muted, cool tones.

What he'd chosen to paint had quite surprised her, for he'd depicted her asleep, her head cushioned against her plush, blue pillow case and shrouded in the quiet darkness of her room, yet with the implied moonlight illuminating just the right amount of her face. Her hair fell so softly across her forehead that it almost made her want to brush her fingers against the canvas to assure herself that it wasn't real. The apex of her bare shoulder fell under the light, along with the purple satin strap of her pajama top, cuddled loosely against her upper arm; it was just enough to add a hint of sultriness to the picture…It was so different from his other pieces, yet still his unique touch.

Kagome didn't want to sound conceited, but he'd made her look beautiful; much more beautiful than she felt she was.

"Words cannot adequately describe just how much I adore this, Inuyasha…it's…it's everything I could have dreamed for it to be," she told him earnestly. She just knew he was preening underneath her praise. Good. She wanted him to.

"You…you wanna take it home?" Kagome turned to him, shocked.

"You…you mean I can _keep_ it?"

"Don't you want to?"

"Well, of _course_! I just thought…you'd want to have it here with your other pieces…it's like your gallery."

"It's okay…" Inuyasha waved off, blushing as he continued. "I…I got a few others…" he admitted.

"Others?"

"Yeah…I…practiced…before I finally came up with this one."

"You practiced…"

"I just wanted to make sure it felt right before I presented it to you…wouldn't wanna give you something crappy…" he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. "You're…you're a good subject…I like painting your face…" he whispered. "Kami, I _know_ I just sounded like a stalker there…shit, I'm sorry—"

"Inuyasha," Kagome cut him off, stepping toward him and taking his hand and rubbing her thumb along the back of the damp flesh. "Would you…would you stop…second guessing yourself? Because when you think you're saying something wrong…it actually turns out that you know just what to say." Inuyasha tried to manage a smile, while he tried to calm his racing heart. It couldn't be good for his heart to be beating as fast as it was…

"I…I usually _don't_ know what to say…I usually screw up pretty badly…"

"Well not lately," Kagome grinned, pushing a few wayward strands of hair back from his shoulder. "Maybe I should go away more often, if you're gonna act like this all the time," she teased. His stricken face had her quickly amending her statement. "I'm just kidding, Inuyasha, really. I won't leave more than I have to."

"Good. 'Cause I really, _really_ missed you, Kagome."

Kagome had no idea how he got the idea in his head that he always said the wrong thing. Because everything out of his mouth simply warmed her heart.

* * *

Author's Notes:

Sorry the chapter is so short! (I hope I don't make anybody mad…) Well, short compared to the last two or three…But it was fluffy! I just needed to get through this one phase that I'm working through…I'm almost sure that the next two will be pretty long. Besides, this is one chapter where there's absolutely no angst! Well, okay, there's a tiny, tiny, smidgen…but that hardly counts next to my usual amount! Homework's been light the last couple days, so I could write, isn't that great? Pray for more weeks to go like this…

I hope I didn't bring Kagome back home too quickly. I didn't want Inuyasha to be without her for too long…

Review!

Wowzer313


	16. Proposition

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, Rumiko Takahashi does.

Author's Notes: I don't know if I'll be able to sustain the 40+ page chapters that I was doing in chapters 12-14. I mean, I won't make chapters like 8 pages long like I did in the very beginning, but those mega-ones were a bit of a fluke—I kind of got carried away. I hope no one is upset by this. I end a chapter when it just feels complete.

Be aware that there is some violence in this chapter. I just wanted to warn you all, because I know some reviewers have told me that they can't handle that type of stuff. But, I think you'll be happy with what I did with it in the end (at least the first part), so I hope everyone continues to read.

Enjoy…if that's the right word.

* * *

**Chapter 16**: Proposition 

He was late. _Extremely_ late. And he hated it when he was late. Lateness meant less time with Kagome, and more time at home. But, it simply couldn't be helped.

"You're acting like you've never done this drill before! Get your sorry ass in there and make my damned dinner!" his father's angry growl resounded through the barren corridors of the house. Inuyasha jumped, dropping the gray polo he was just about slip on, and fumbling to put on a grubby t-shirt instead to finish his father's supper. He sighed wistfully as he plodded down the stairs; sneaking off to Kagome's would have to wait until his father's appetite was fed.

"What the hell were you up there doing, anyway?" the man growled from the adjacent room. He was sprawled out on the couch, tumbler of alcohol in hand, and allowing the television to watch him, as he was a few sips away from passing out.

"Nothing, Sir," Inuyasha said meekly, as he retrieved the necessary ingredients for a basic meal.

"Damn right, nothing. You're head's full of nothing. And that's all you'll ever be: _nothing_," the older demon slurred Inuyasha bristled. Kagome thought quite differently. And that was all that really mattered. 'And _you're_ nothing but a stupid old drunk,' Inuyasha spat in his mind. He would make something quick and easy. After all, Kagome was waiting.

Inuyasha put some noodles on to boil, and impatiently waited for the chicken breasts to brown. He dashed some salt over them and flipped them over.

"What the fuck are you trying to do, _kill_ me with salt?" his father's voice boomed, much closer than he anticipated. Drunk and unruly as he was, the demon still managed to sneak up on him, and Inuyasha was always skittish when he was near; he jerked in surprise, his wrist hitting a bottle of seasoning, its contents spilling across the counter, and sprinkling onto the floor.

"Clumsy bastard," came his father's derisive snort. He yanked a chair from underneath the kitchen table and plopped himself into it, slamming his drink down onto the table's surface pointedly. Inuyasha got the hint, and quickly refilled the tumbler with cranberry juice and vodka. 'If I never make it as anything else in life, I could have a very promising career as a bartender,' Inuyasha thought. He wet some paper towel and set to work cleaning up his spill. "Idiot."

"I'm sorry, Sir," Inuyasha muttered.

"You waste food, and you expect 'sorry' to make it better? Psh! Moron!"

"I'm sorry," the boy repeated.

"You damn right, you're sorry. Real sorry. Nothing _but _sorry," his father emphasized acidly. Silence stretched on as Inuyasha finished cleaning the counter, and moved on to tend to the floor. His mind wasn't there. He was miles away, already thinking about Kagome, her smiles, and all of the wonderful things she would make him feel. He was too preoccupied with thinking about his best friend to notice the pungent odor of burning chicken that tinged the air.

"What are you, fucking _retarded_? Get the damned food out of the pan, you twit!" his father bellowed, standing and snapping Inuyasha out of this thoughts. He jumped up and rushed to fill a mug with water before dousing the chicken with it, steam arising from the pan in a sweltering cloud.

"Fucking _idiot_!" the man griped. He swatted his son across the back of the head with a 'thump'. Inuyasha shrugged off the small blow. It hadn't hurt, and he'd had much worse.

"I'm sorry, Sir," he said again. It was his mantra.

"Dumbass, good-for-nothing, empty-headed…"

"It was an accident," he murmured softly, scraping the burnt chicken from where it stuck quite obstinately to the pan.

"Just like your mother: stupid and worthless. Irresponsible and—"

"_Please_," Inuyasha whispered, stressed. He gasped softly, despite himself. 'Where did _that_ come from?' he wondered. Talking back? 'Am I _insane_?' His father grabbed his shoulder and roughly turned him around. Inuyasha cringed as the older demon's fingers pinched his already bruised flesh, his claws just barely grazing his skin through his thin t-shirt. The sneer his face wore was terrifyingly twisted, his fangs bared.

"What did you say?" came the slow, deceptively calm query.

"N-n-nothing," Inuyasha stammered. The hands on his shoulders tightened.

"You said something. 'Please.' _Please_, what, Inuyasha?" he demanded, shocking the boy. He _rarely_, if ever used his name.

"N-nothing, Sir, I swear—"

"Dammit, Boy, don't fucking _lie_ to me! _Please, what_? Answer the damned question!" he bellowed, giving Inuyasha a firm shake.

"I just—I only—"

"You only _what_?"

"Please don't say things like that about Mom!" Inuyasha exclaimed. He clapped his hands over his mouth, his eyes wide as saucers in his surprise. Reminiscent of the eye of a hurricane, silence descended upon the pair; it was only the calm before the storm. Inuyasha didn't know _what_ possessed him to say that to his father. He wasn't sure if he'd been caught up in the moment, and under the duress of his father's intense coercion, he'd blurted out what he'd wanted to say, or if it was the discontent he'd always harbored, now straining to make itself known, courtesy of a certain girl. All he knew was that now he couldn't stop. Removing his hands from his mouth and letting his words take over, he continued.

"It's…it's just that…she really, _really_ loved you! She did, I swear she did! And she was the best, and she would have never said any of those things about you! Never! No matter what, she would have never talked about you like that. And…and…and she's dead, and I think—I think she deserves to be treated with some respect!" His entire body trembled. 'Have I been possessed?' he wondered. He figured that had to be the only way he'd ever have the nerve to say anything like that to the enraged demon before him.

"Respect?" the man enunciated slowly. Inuyasha closed his eyes and tensed, bracing himself for the flurry of fists that he was sure were about to crash into his face. "You want to talk about _respect_, half-breed? Here you are, getting smart with your elder!"

"You…you don't respect m-m-me…" Inuyasha whispered fearfully. He kept his eyes tightly clenched shut and barreled on. "Y-y-you _h-hate_ me, and you t-t-treat me like _crap_, and…and you're…you're supposed to _give_ respect t-t-to g-get it," he said hoarsely, tremulously, pulling a quote he'd heard Kagome say once or twice when he would go to her after being hurt.

The loud _clap_ of flesh against flesh bounced off the kitchen's walls as Inuyasha's father sent the flat of his palm across his son's cheek. Inuyasha's head snapped violently to the right, and his hand flew up to press against the corner of his mouth, where a fang had sliced him on impact. He shrunk away from the silently furious man, knowing he'd gone too far, and wishing he could retract everything he'd said.

"Don't you _dare_ try to correct _me_," Taishou growled, pointing a firm finger into the boy's face. His other hand kept an unyielding, bruising grip on his shoulder. "_I_ am the parent. _You_ are the child." A temper he didn't know he had when it came to his father flared violently in Inuyasha, and his eyes widened incredulously, nostrils flaring in his anger.

"You are _not_ a parent!" he cried gutturally. "You just _hit_ me, and you call yourself a _parent_! You are _not _a parent! You…you're just…just my _father_—in name only! You _don't_ love me, you _don't_ like me—just the opposite! Th-there's no way you can say you're a parent. My _mom_ was a parent—she loved me—I don't see why you _can't—_"

"That's _enough_!" Taishou yelled, infuriated. He shook the boy, grabbed his collar and slammed him against the refrigerator, shaking the great appliance with the force. "I don't want to hear another _word_ out of you—"

"W-w-why _not_?" Inuyasha screamed. His hands pushed feebly against his father's bulky wrists. "Is it because it's the _t-truth_?" He jerked against the iron vice that was his father's grip, strained fruitlessly.

"Shut up!"

Inuyasha wouldn't shut up. Not even when Taishou cuffed him soundly in the mouth. Not when the man smashed his face into the linoleum floor, and he tried to scramble away; not when Taishou retaliated by raking his claws across his back and dragging him backwards by his hair. Not as he was kicked and slapped and used as his father's punching bag. Inuyasha couldn't _stop _himself; he _wouldn't_, he _couldn't_ shut up.

"Leave me _alone_! Stop it!" he cried, attempting to kick against his assailant, yet hitting air.

"Stop it! Shut _up_!"

His conscious, self-preserving, fearful mind had taken a back seat to this raucous, ballsy, spewing alter-ego. He felt as though he were sitting back and watching while this entirely different person screamed at his father; yelled and balked, and questioned, bringing up every injustice that he'd always wanted to get out, but had been too afraid to breach.

"You remember…you remember your place, half-breed, you hear me?" his father spat; his voice sounded somewhat less vehement than normal. Inuyasha slumped in a boneless heap against the cabinets, his breathing labored, harsh, and shaky. Blood dripped in frothy bubbles from his parted lips, and he glared hatefully at the drunken demon that stood over him, slowly backing away, and grabbing for his drink. "I don't know where you get off—I don't know where you're getting all this from—but you'd better fix it, and stop it, before…before I get _really_ angry. Then…then I'll _really_ punish…you…" he said, somewhat weakly. He took a long gulp of his drink as Inuyasha's other-self stared daggers at his bobbing Adam's apple.

"You…you get your ass up and finish dinner," the man ordered quietly. He took the vodka bottle from the counter in one hand, his tumbler in the other. He gave the trembling boy, who was coming back into his own mind, a long, strange, look before exiting the kitchen in favor of the living room couch. Inuyasha stood shakily, wincing as the gashes on his back protested as they were stretched. He trembled, feeling as though he were coming through a fog, and the things he'd shouted barraged his mind.

He couldn't _believe_ the things he'd said! He couldn't believe…he'd had the nerve…

Inuyasha gulped and salvaged the parts of the chicken that weren't burnt, cut it into chunks, and made a hasty, simple soup with the over-boiled noodles. He served his father with a tentatively quiet approach, as always. The man watched him silently from the couch, looking at him as if he didn't recognize him. Inuyasha kept his eyes trained on his task, setting the soup onto a TV table in front of the man, and refreshing his drink.

"Is…is there anything else I c-can d-d-do for you?" he murmured. Taishou eyed him warily, leaning away from him and squinting.

"No. Just…get out of here. Get out of my sight," he groused, digging into the food. Inuyasha ducked out of the room quickly. 'You have no idea. I have _no_ problem getting out of here,' he thought.

He swiped a towel over the gashes in his back as best he could, being sure that the bleeding stopped before slipping his polo on, followed by his jeans, and stuffing his feet into his shoes. He ran a comb through his hair and stuffed his bandana into his pocket. He locked the door to his room and pulled the window open, propping one foot up on the window sill. He looked towards the door, grimacing at the man who was not there. If his father bothered to check on him, he'd be in major trouble upon his return; it was quite likely that there would be a repeat of the earlier incident later that night. The bloody towel thrown across the bed might be enough of his scent to convince his father he was still home, and it might not. It all depended. Inuyasha growled to himself.

He cared. He truly did. But he wanted to get out. He _needed_ to get out.

Clambering out of the window, he held onto the small ledge just outside his room, and shut the window as quietly as he cold with one arm. He let himself drop to the ground below, and took off running towards the bus stop.

* * *

Kagome swung the door open to see a winded Inuyasha panting on her doorstep. 

"Sorry I'm late," he puffed. She rolled her eyes and backed up to let him in.

"It's fine," she said aloofly, closing the door and crossing her arms. Inuyasha gave her a knowing look.

"You don't think it's fine," he accused, pulling at her wrists to uncross her arms. "Come on, I'm really sorry, I swear," he insisted, giving her wrists a squeeze.

"You could have called," she balked, taking her arms out of his grip. She wasn't really mad at him. But, well…she couldn't give in that easily, now could she?

"Yeah, I know, but my dad was all over me. It was hard enough getting out of the house," he said casually with a shrug. He walked into the living room and to the couch, picking the remote up from between the cushions.

"Well, I hope you know that thanks to you, we're going to have to catch the later—" She stopped short as she entered the living room after him. Her jaw snapped shut with an audible _clack_.

"The later show? How much later is it?" Inuyasha asked, clueless, flicking through channels. Kagome didn't answer. She _couldn't_ answer. Inuyasha turned to face her, muting the television and looking at her curiously. "Hey…what's wrong with you?" he asked. She said nothing. He stepped closer. "Kagome…helloooo? What's _wrong_ with you?" He waved a hand in front of her nose.

She only stared hard at him, her jaw clenched so tightly that he could see the little balls of muscle working in her cheeks.

"Kagome, seriously, what's the dea—" He cut himself off as her wide, suspiciously shiny eyes snapped just to his right, and then back to his own eyes.

He frowned, following the line her gaze had made. He twisted his shirt around so that he could see the back and then stiffened. Glaringly bright against the drab gray of his shit, the gypsy-red blood oozed through the pores in the fabric, staining the fibers and slowly making a trail across his lower back. He dropped the edge of the shirt, and then dropped his gaze, unsure of what to say.

"Inuyasha…" Kagome whispered tremulously. "Inuyasha, lay down."

"Hey, it's fine. It's fine, Kagome. Just let me borrow a new t-shirt, and we'll be all set to go, okay?" he said quickly.

"Inuyasha, lay down," she repeated.

"No, it's fine, really. It's alright, it's no big deal, really," he said brightly. "You don't need to do anything, so let's just—" Kagome's soft hands gripping his wrists firmly stopped his rushed words.

"Inyasha, lay _down_." He stiffened, clenched his teeth.

"No."

"Yes."

"_No_, Kagome. _No_." He tugged against her grip, but was careful not to wrench himself out of her grasp; the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.

"Inuyasha—"

"_No!_ I don't want you to see, okay? It's fine! It's no big dea—"

"Inuyasha! I'm not _asking_ you! I'm _telling_ you! Take off your shirt and _lay down_," she commanded. Inuyasha opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him to the quick. "Souta, Mom, and Grandpa aren't here. So do it. Now."

"Kagome…"

"I know you're strong. I know you heal faster than a human does. I know you can take more pain than a human can, and I know…and I know this isn't something you want me to see…but please. Please, let me do this for you, okay? You're not fine. You just aren't. You're hurt. It obviously just happened, and there's no way you're healed yet; just look, you're bleeding. Please. Lay down," she implored, rubbing her thumb against the underside of his wrists as she spoke.

A frown darkening his face and drawing his brows together, Inuyasha pulled away from her and moved to the couch. He yanked his shirt over his head and purposefully threw it across the room where it landed beside the television. He'd relented to her; he would let her tend his wounds. Something in her voice and face had stirred him—but he didn't have to like it. He was just about to lay down when Kagome stopped him, returning from the bathroom with a first aid kit and towels.

"On the floor please? So I can reach you," she asked quietly. He gave her a hard look; he didn't know why—he wasn't mad at her. He was just frustrated. Kagome spread a large towel on the carpeted floor beside the couch along with a throw pillow, motioning for him to lie down. Inuyasha settled himself on his stomach on the makeshift pallet, cushioning his head on the small pillow on his crossed arms. He waited, and Kagome soon returned with a large bowl of warm water which she placed above his head.

Clearing her throat, she pushed the heavy curtain of his hair to the side over his left shoulder. She let out a little shocked sound at the sight of his back; four slash marks starting from his left shoulder blade to his right hip, and another set of four stretching in the opposite direction, the eight creating four total jagged X's. Her hands shook. The blood oozed slowly and thickly from the places where the gouges were deepest, the shallower parts near the ends having begun to scab over already.

She dipped a washcloth into the warm water, and with the edge, she cleaned the dried smears of blood that caked on his skin.

"Wh…why did he…how…what did you…" she stammered, unable to finish her question.

"It was my fault," Inuyasha murmured.

"Inuyasha, you can't really believe that!" Kagome exclaimed, her ministrations stopping for a moment. "You can't—"

"No, it really was. I…I said something I shouldn't have," he muttered. He fixed his eyes on the smooth skin of Kagome's knees and right thigh, just perfectly in his line of sight.

"What did you say?"

"Well…he said I was irresponsible and stupid, just like my mother…and I told him that she deserved respect." Kagome paused.

"He hit you because you told him to respect your mom?" she asked.

"No. He hit me because after he told me to respect _him_, I told him he had to give respect to get it," Inuyasha snorted. "Then I told him he wasn't a real dad…_then_ he got really pissed."

"You _said_ that?" Kagome asked softly. She couldn't help the small smile that tugged at her mouth; he'd never given her any inkling that he ever stood up to his father. The fact that he'd said these things…he was getting braver.

"Yeah…pretty stupid, huh?"

"No. No, not at all," she insisted. "I think…I think you were very brave," she said gently. She ran one hand over the crown of his head, the tip of her middle finger brushing just barely against the base of his left ear, which flicked her way in response. With a soft smile, she ran the nail of her index finger against the back of the intriguing piece of fluff, biting the inside of her cheek at its cuteness when it cocked back against her finger. She rubbed her knuckle against the soft fur for a long while before he turned to look at her, looking embarrassed, and turned away again. Kagome resumed her task with a blush.

"Inuyasha…there's something green in these…" she said, puzzled.

"I know."

"What is it?"

"Poison…"

"Oh…Kami," she croaked. Finally, the tears she'd managed to keep at bay found their way down her cheeks and pooled under her chin. She bit her tongue, trying not to cry aloud, knowing how it upset the boy before her. It didn't matter; he sat up quickly, whirling to face her.

"Hey! Hey, what're you doing?" he asked, panicked.

"I'm sorry…" she whispered, wiping at her eyes with the back of her hands and sniffling. His face wrinkled in confusion; he didn't know what to do when she cried…

"C-come on…come in, Kagome…don't…don't go and cry…it's alright. Really, it's alright…" he said gently, awkwardly. He reached out an awkwardly patted her thigh, and then allowed his hand to rest there for a moment longer than necessary once he recognized just how soft and smooth the skin actually was to the touch…he yanked his hand back with a blush when he realized he'd lingered.

"I'm sorry," she repeated. "I just…how…how do you _stand_ it? How do you take that all day, everyday, Inuyasha?" she asked, drying her eyes with the edge of her t-shirt.

"I don't know…I just do…"

"Are you so sure that adoption or a foster home would be so much worse than this? Would it really be so bad?"

"Kagome, not again," he groaned.

"Yes, again! Inuyasha, this entire thing is ridiculous! He has no right to treat you like he does! At least with an adoptive family you could—"

"At least at home I'm not moving around all the time. I've got _some_ kind of stability," he argued.

"Inuyasha, getting beaten every day in your own home is _not_ stability. I don't care what you say, that's _not_ stable. Yes, in the foster care system you might move around every once in a while, but at least you have the chance to be safe," Kagome argued back.

"What if they moved me far away? Huh? Then what?" he said hotly.

"The farther the better! The farther you can get away from that nightmare of a house, the better it will be for you!"

"Not if I get moved far away from you!" he exclaimed. His face heated up and he dropped his head, his thick fringe of bangs hiding his face from her view. "Then I wouldn't have any friends," he muttered.

Kagome's heart warmed at that, and she gave the top of his head a sad smile. With cautious hands, she touched his chin and cupped his jaw in her palm. She felt a shudder pass through him at that, and brought his head up so that she could look into his eyes. The heat of his blush warmed her hands. He seemed to want to look everywhere but her eyes.

"Have…have you thought about maybe…moving in with a friend?" she asked, her voice almost silent.

"Yeah, right. Like who?"

"Like…me." There. She'd done it. She'd breached the subject. His wide, astonished golden eyes snapped to hers.

"What?"

"Just…hypothetically…what if you came to live with me? What do you think about that?" Kagome bit her lip. Inuyasha's face fluctuated between utter shock and confusion to absolute sorrow.

"I…I couldn't…" he whispered, shaking his head, still held gently between Kagome's soft, cool palms.

"Why not?"

"I could never do that…I could never do that to you and your family, Kagome."

"What do you mean? What would you be doing to us?

"Everything…everything would be horrible for you…"

"What do you mean by that, Inuyasha? What would be so horrible for us? I don't understand—"

"How do you think my mother _died_, Kagome?" he blurted. She frowned, a cold feeling of trepidation and wariness seeping into her stomach. He sighed, leaning into her hand. "She died because of _me_…Because she _kept_ me…"

* * *

"Mom, the storm's getting worse," Inuyasha said, standing at the foot of his mother's mahogany bed frame, blocking her view of the television. 

"Yeah, I know," Izayoi responded. She patted the spot on the plush, queen-sized bed next to her. Inuyasha frowned.

"Mom…I'm a big now…" he complained.

"If you're so big and bad, why are you in here complaining about the storm, hm?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. Inuyasha bit his lip and looked out of her window; through the gauzy curtains he could see the knotty branches of the oak tree bending violently in the gale-force winds, the tips scratching ominously against the glass. Lightning illuminated the darkened room for a split second, casting the tree branches' shadows onto the carpet, followed by the cacophonous sound of thunder.

"Is nine too old to tuck down in bed with dear old mom?" she teased him. Inuyasha considered this. He could go back to his own room, where his window gave him an all-too-perfect view of the trees thrashing back and forth and the torrential rain showering the street, and the lightning flashing…or he could stay safe and warm in his mother's soft embrace and watch TV.

Choosing the latter, Inuyasha kicked off his Power Ranger house slippers and clambered across the vast bed to hunker down under thick, downy comforters next to his mother, snuggling securely into her side.

"You're not old," he told her, his voice muffled from where he'd tucked his face into the softness of her stomach. He inhaled deeply, soothed by the easy, warm scent she had. She chuckled a bit, his head bouncing from the movement of her stomach as she laughed.

"Well, thank you very much, Sweetheart," she said lightly. "Come up here," she grunted, pulling him up against the pillows, her hands under his arms. Inuyasha giggled as she poked him, finding a ticklish spot of his, and gave his ears a gentle rub. "My, my aren't you getting heavy."

"It's all muscle!" he proclaimed proudly, pulling back the sleeve of his pajamas and flexing his arm. "I'm a man!"

"Not yet you aren't!" she laughed.

"Yeah, I am!" he insisted, flexing the tiny arm again for emphasis.

"Well, if you are, you're a very, very small man. You're even small for a nine-year old, so what do you say we get some height on you first, hm?"

"Okay," he said, a mock-pout on his face. Izayoi laughed at his antics and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his head, right between his ears, and pulled his small body close to hers. "What're you watching?" he asked.

"Nothing, really," she said with a yawn. "I'm kind of letting the TV watch me. I was halfway asleep." Inuyasha gave her a sly smile and slipped the remote out of her hands.

"Let's watch something good, then," he said, flicking through the channels.

"Okay. You pick, I don't care," she told him softly, sleep almost claiming her again. She laid her cheek against the top of her son's head, the soft, white strands of his hair tickling her neck and nose. She smiled, shaking her head as he settled on a rerun of a cartoon show that even _she'd_ seen ten times, so she knew _he_ had to have seen it at least twenty. With the small child who'd become her entire world in her arms, and the warm blanket shielding them both from the chill of the night, Izayoi allowed sleep to claim her quite completely.

A loud, insistent banging on the front door downstairs woke her with a start, and she and Inuyasha jumped. He turned in her arms to look at her.

"Mommy?" he whispered.

"I don't know, Honey," she answered his unspoken question. She heard shouting. Inuyasha gasped softly, his ears flattening, having picked up what she couldn't.

"They're saying bad words, Mommy," he murmured, his small hands clutching the folds of her pajama top. Izayoi paled as the banging became louder, more insistent, more adamant. She got a very, very bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. Bile rose to the back of her throat, and she struggled to keep her dinner.

"Inuyasha, Sweetie, get in the closet," she instructed him swiftly. His golden eyes widened in alarm.

"What? Why?" he asked, panicked.

"Just do what I say, Sweetheart, and get in the closet," she said firmly. She pushed him out of the warmth of the blankets and ushered him quickly into the small closet, settling him in between the material of her dresses and coats. "Stay here, Baby, okay?" He nodded, terrified. They both jumped again at the distinct sound of splintering wood reached them.

"Mommy!" he whimpered.

"Just stay here, Inuyasha, okay? Stay here, my baby," she repeated, voice trembling. She grabbedhim roughly and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "I'll come for you." Then she shut the door, enshrouding the boy in darkness. The sound of his harsh breathing filled the small space, muted and flat. He could hear his heart beating way faster than it should have been.

He could hear the thundering of footsteps pounding up the stairs, getting closer and closer. Where had his mother gone? He couldn't hear her footsteps, even as he strained. A small whimper tore from his throat as the door to his mother's bedroom crashed open, and the angry voices of men became clearer.

"Leave this place!" he heard his mother yell. He cringed. He'd never heard her sound like that: so angry and commanding.

"Where is the half-breed?" a deep voice demanded to know.

"There is no half-breed here. There's only me and my son in this house," Izayoi said firmly. "_Leave_."

"No, no, no, Ms. Chikamatsu, I don't think we can accommodate that request," came another voice, low and slick. "You've got to give up the boy."

"You have _no_ _right_ to come into my home and demand my son—"

"And you have no right to expose our children to that _filth_," came yet a third voice. Inuyasha struggled to keep quiet, clasping his hands over his mouth. They were talking about _him_, there was no doubt about it.

"My son has the right to go to school wherever I may choose to send him! He has the right to an education! _You_ have no right to tell me that he doesn't! _You_ are not the authority, here—"

"And from the looks of it, my Dear," said the second, slick voice, "neither are you."

Inuyasha heard a '_click_' sound. There was no mistaking what _that_ was. He was only nine, but he certainly knew the sound of a _gun _when he heard it, though he'd been unaware that his mother kept one. The firing of it was unmistakable, as was the cry of agony from a wounded person. He just prayed, just prayed that his mother was the one holding the weapon—

"You stupid, _bitch_!" the first voice raged. "She fucking _shot_ me! She _shot_ me!"

"Who knew she had a fucking _gun_?

"All of you freeze, or I'll shoot the rest of you. Fatally," Izayoi said coldly. Inuyasha held his breath, and time seemed to stand still.

"My side…my side!" the wounded man groaned. He was ignored as the tense standoff dragged.

Inuyasha couldn't tell what happened next. He couldn't follow all of the voices and noises as they melded together in a confusing jumble of piercing scrapes, dull thuds, hollow crashes, screams and bellows. His eyes stung so badly that his head began to ache. The tears welled in his eyes and spilled over onto his cheeks in big, fat drops. 'Please be okay, Mommy…Please, _please_ be okay, Mommy,' he repeated in his mind like a mantra.

Suddenly, the sounds stopped. There was complete silence for twenty three seconds, and then he heard a shuffling that grew quieter and quieter. Inuyasha waited, petrified, in the closet for another two minutes before he cautiously pushed the door open.

The surreal, macabre sight that greeted him when he opened the door forced him to vomit straightaway, adding to the barrage of smells that assaulted his delicate nose. Feathers from his mother's pillows dotted the air, lazily spiraling towards the floor. Some stuck to the comforter, some fell to his mother's desk and onto the television, where his cartoon was still playing, the jingle music providing a morbid juxtaposed background to the gore around him. And some of the wayward feathers fell into the puddles of blood that dotted the carpet, staining the ivory color of it.

Inuyasha knew the scent of blood. He knew the scent of his own, of a few of his classmates, and especially of his mother's. He'd gotten quite well-acquainted with the unpleasant, metallic scent when she'd accidentally sliced her finger while cooking. Then, she'd bled for only a little while, shedding only a few drops. He'd still been afraid.

That compared nothing to the overwhelming, crippling fear he felt now, as he stepped around the foot of the bed, to find his mother's broken body sprawled out in front of her nightstand. He screamed, recoiled, fell back onto his bottom and scuffled away, his tears coming in full force now.

She shuffled a bit, groaned, and her hand twitched. Inuyasha, choking back his fear and another round of bile that threatened to spill forth, crawled towards the mortally wounded woman, his stomach roiling at the smell of blood that covered her, leaving him no hint of her true scent. His pinky finger brushed something, and it clinked, rolling against its twin. They were pointy, hollow tubes of some sort, still warm. Gun shells…her blood hadn't been the only blood spilled. The scents and these shells told him that much.

"In…u…ya…" her feeble, dying voice called him. She strained to reach for her baby. Inuyasha crawled closer to her face, breathing through his mouth in short pants. Sobs overtook him, wracking his small frame as he came upon her swollen face.

"M-ma…Mommy…" he choked. He was afraid to touch her; what if he made things worse? "I…you…a doctor! Mommy, y-y-you need a d-d-doctor," he stammered. He started to rise, started to run for a phone. Her weak protest ceased his movements.

"N-no…" she managed to say. She shook her head, and her busted lips turned up into a weak smile. "I…" She couldn't finish. Her right hand shakily came up to rest against her bosom, right over her heart, before she pointed a trembling finger at the child who leaned over her, his tears falling onto her chest through the V-neck on her night shirt. They collected in the hollow of her throat. "_Love you_," she whispered. "_Love you._"

"I love you too, Mommy! Please—" He pressed a small hand against her forehead.

He could tell the exact moment that she was no longer with him, for her last smile faded, and her eyes glazed over, and the stomach-churning, nausea-inducing stench of death claimed her…as he sat beside her, watching her, unable to do anything but stay with her and sob his heart out, her creamy complexion slowly turned an ashen, frightening hue as the blood drained from her.

Weak from exhaustion and emotional draining, Inuyasha collapsed, unconscious against the woman's form, unable to force himself away, even from the unsettling stench of her death.

When he came to, there was a police officer standing over him, her face caught between sympathy and revulsion at the corpse on which he lay. There officers all around, cameras flashing, little yellow cards with numbers propped up against various objects. He was confused, and tired, and sick, and heartbroken. She held out a hand, which he hesitated to take, his tears coming anew.

"Come on now, little one," she said in a flat voice. "We're going to have to find you some place to stay."

* * *

"Inuyasha…" 

"I couldn't do that to you…not to you and Souta, and your mom, and your grandfather…it wouldn't be right…"

"I…I don't think that would ever…happen," Kaogme said, though she knew she sounded less sure than she really felt. She turned his face towards herself again. "Listen to me, Inuyasha. I…I can't just stand idly by while you get hurt like you do. That…that wouldn't happen—"

"How do you know?" he cried out. "How do you know? Do you know how much trouble I'd cause for you if I lived here? I've already put you in a bad situation by staying around you! If…if I weren't such a selfish bastard…I'd leave you alone…But I can't. 'Cause I _need _to be around you, Kagome. I need to be near you. I…I'd make things so much harder for you than they already are…" he choked mournfully, shaking his head. 'Kami, but please, save me,' he pleaded silently with her. 'Don't give up on me, please. I'm almost out. Then everything can be normal.'

Kagome's heart ached for him.

She brushed his untamed bangs away from his forehead, the hairs flopping down into place no sooner than she'd removed her hand.

"Look at you…" she murmured, caressing the side of his face. Her fingertips brushed over his cheek, one finger gently tracing the line of the cut at the corner of his lips, and he leaned his head heavily against her hand. "You're all bruised…" Scooting closer so that her closed knees were wedged between his open ones, Kagome moved her face closer to his and tenderly nuzzled the marred flesh of his left cheek, giving the affection-starved boy the care he so desperately craved and so obviously needed.

"Kagome…" he moaned, his eyes fluttering shut. "Oh, Kagome…"

Her eyelashes tickled him; her breath fell on him in warm puffs, and sent shivers down his spine, his arms quickly covered in gooseflesh. He thought he might lose it when the soft touch of her lips glanced against his cheek, once, twice, three times. He couldn't breathe. He thought to kiss her back, but found that his mouth and lips were quite dry, and he doubted his kiss would be as nice as hers. He couldn't deny that he wanted to, though—very, very badly.

"I'd take good care of you, Inuyasha," she whispered.

He gave a violent shudder as her breathy whispers swept lightly across his face and onto the tender skin of his neck. He swallowed thickly, his stomach erupting in a horde of butterflies. 'Does she know?' he wondered through his mind's haze. Did she know that she was making him quite dizzy? Did she know how strongly the potent, concentrated scent of her was affecting him? Did she know just how much he wanted to say yes? Did she know just how hard he was falling for her? Inuyasha clenched his eyes shut as he admitted it to himself. She had to know. She _had_ to. "I promise you, you'd be safe. You'd be safe with me."

* * *

Author's Notes: 

Does anyone know that song "Slow Me Down" by Emmy Rossum? This story reminds me of that song. I like it. If you haven't heard it, listen to it. You can find it on YouTube, I think you'll see what I'm talking about.

As a matter of fact, listen to it and reread the fluffy Inuyasha-Kagome scene when she's holding his face. I listened to it while I wrote it. It was very calming. I really like this chapter.

Review!

Wowzer313


	17. Fumbling for a Future

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, Rumiko Takahashi does.

Author's Notes: This chapter is very…dialogue-y. Sorry about that. But, I think it's needed. Just a quick little chapter to get some major things going. I'm going out of town this Friday, and won't be able to update, so I thought I'd give you a little something-something to tie you all over.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 17**: Fumbling for a Future

"So, Kagome?"

"Yes, Mama?"

"Did you ever finish your book?"

"What book?" Her mother gave her a knowing look, a small smirk on her mouth.

"The one you were reading a while ago. With the girl and her abusive uncle?"

"Oh! _That_ book…" Kagome exclaimed, her lie hitting her with ample force.

"Yes, _that_ book," her mother said with a knowing smile in the girl's direction. "How did the girl fare?"

"Um…well, you see…I haven't really actually _finished_ the book, but—"

"Kagome."

"Yes?"

"You're a terrible liar, Dear," her mother told her gently. Kagome sighed and slumped into her seat.

"I know."

"How is Inuyasha, then?" the older woman asked, concern etched onto her face. She set the notebook she'd been scribbling in aside, laid her half-rimmed spectacles against her bosom, and folded her hands in front of her, giving her daughter her undivided attention. Kagome shrugged.

"There are good days, and then there are bad days…The worst part is that you never know when he's going to have what kind of day…"

"I see."

"The other day…it was terrible. He had these big…_gashes_ in his back…It was awful," Kagome murmured, shuddering at the memory of his shredded back.

"I know. I saw the shirt in the wash." Kagome winced.

"You weren't supposed to," she said quietly. "I'm sorry…I wanted to talk to you about it. I've wanted to for a while, I just…I was afraid to tell, because Inuyasha trusted me with his secret…" Kagome said. Her mother grabbed her hands, giving them a comforting pat across the kitchen table.

"It's okay, Kagome. In all reality…you didn't _really_ tell. I sort of figured it out on my own," the older woman admitted.

"Really?"

"Mm-hm."

"How?"

"Kagome, when a teenage boy spends as much time at someone else's house as that boy does here…when he latches onto someone who shows him any bit of kindness…it's not difficult to read between the lines," Mrs. Higurashi explained softly. Kagome stared at her. 'I _knew_ she was way too perceptive for everyone else's good…'

"How long have you known? Or, suspected?"

"Oh…about around the time that you tried to throw him that birthday party. When you came home upset, Kagome…it was a bit of a giveaway."

"I guess it would be…"

"You wear your heart on your sleeve, Sweetie," Mrs. Higurashi said kindly, a small smile on her face. Kagome slumped.

"I know I do…" she mumbled.

"So have you asked him?"

"Asked him…oh! About…moving in?" Her mother nodded, and Kagome fiddled with the nail of her pinky finger. "Um…well, I kind of brought it up a couple of days ago…"

"And what did he say?"

"He said that he could never put that kind of burden on our family. He says he doesn't want to make trouble for us."

"You…you've told him that he wouldn't be a burden, yes?"

"Of course I have! I just…I don't think he believes me…I don't know what it will take to make him believe me." Kagome eyed her mother, the woman's brow creased in thought as she stared at the table. "Mom? You'd…you'd really do that for him? You'd really take him in? Just like that?"

"Of course I would, Kagome," Mrs. Higurashi emphasized. "Far be it from me to deny a child refuge. Inuyasha is a sweet boy, and I know he means a lot to you. I'd never turn him down if he requested to stay." Kagome smiled fondly and admiringly at the woman across the table from her.

"You're the absolute _best_, Mom," Kagome told the woman warmly, getting up to embrace her gratefully. "I don't know anyone in the world with a heart as big as yours."

"Oh, I think I might know _one_ other person…"

* * *

"Inuyasha, how nice to see you," Mrs. Higurashi greeted the tall young man on her doorstep.

"Hi, Mrs. Higurashi," he said with a small wave.

"I'm afraid Kagome's not home right now…I sent her out on errands," the woman said apologetically. "She should be back in an hour or so."

"Oh…okay. I'll just…wait, then," he said, looking about the empty courtyard. He moved to seat himself underneath the shade of a nearby oak tree when the woman stopped him.

"You don't have to wait _outside_, Dear," Mrs. Higurashi chuckled, ushering him into the house. "It's getting chilly out. Come inside before you catch something," she instructed, gently placing her hand on his back. "You can keep me company," she added with a smile as she went into the kitchen.

"Souta and your father aren't here?" Inuyasha asked, following her into the room. He never really knew just _what_ to call Kagome's grandfather besides…well…Kagome's grandfather. It was a bit awkward for him.

"No. Souta's gone out to a birthday party, and Grandpa is playing bridge down at the senior center." Inuyasha raised an eyebrow, and Mrs. Higurashi laughed lightly, running hot water over the pile of pots and pans in the sink. "Not that he would ever _call_ it a senior center…he likes to call it a 'getaway for the mentally and physically mature'," she told the boy with a shrug and a shake of her head.

"What exactly _is_ bridge, anyway?" Inuyasha asked. He sat down at the kitchen table and poured a small pile of salt and a small pile of pepper onto the surface.

"No one really knows but the 'mentally and physically mature'," she quipped. Inuyasha smirked at her joke as he idly traced tiny designs into his seasoning mixture with the tip of a claw.

"Do you need help?" he asked hesitantly. The woman had been kind enough to allow him to keep company with her daughter; the least he felt he could do was help her clean the kitchen…since he'd probably helped to dirty it in the first place.

"Why, sure. Thank you, Dear. Um…you can unload the dishwasher if you'd like."

Inuyasha opened the large contraption, squinting as the plumes of steam from the recently run cycle billowed out into his face. He began to deftly stack the plates, bowls and cups in their respective cabinets, and then quickly sorted the silverware.

"Well, look at you, knowing where everything goes," Mrs. Higurashi smiled at him. He shrugged, closing the door to the dishwasher and picking idly at the edge of the counter.

"I come over enough," he muttered.

"That is true…if you could finish these pots while I start dinner, that would be a big help," she said, offering him the scrub brush, which he took, replacing her at the sink's edge while she rummaged around in the refrigerator for ingredients.

"So…Inuyasha…" the woman began after a few minutes of silence.

"Yes?"

"I saw the painting you made of Kagome." Inuyasha flushed and lowered his ears.

"You did?"

"Yes." She gave the boy an approving look. "You've got quite the artistic flair," she complimented. The sound of Mrs. Higurashi's knife hitting the chopping board sounded in the kitchen for a few moments as Inuyasha collected himself.

"You…you think so?" he finally asked.

"Well, of course. It's very lovely."

"I…I didn't know she showed anyone," he mumbled. 'She wasn't _supposed_ to show anyone,' he thought with a silent growl. 'But…I guess I didn't tell her not to…'

"Oh, yes," Mrs. Higurashi chuckled lightly. "It was all she could talk about for days on end. All we heard from her was 'how _talented_ Inuyasha is' or 'how _creative_ Inuyasha is' or 'how very _proud_ of Inuyasha' she is," the woman explained, waving the blade of the knife in circles animatedly as she spoke, stopping every so often to continue chopping the zucchini. She shot the teenager a sly look. "I have to say, I find myself agreeing."

"Keh!" Inuyasha muttered, blushing like mad and ducking his head. Kagome's praise he was used to. Well…not truly _used_ to, but she'd always complimented him. He reveled in her praise, and he was fast growing into the inherent fawning that she tended to engage in over him. But Mrs. Higurashi? He was in no way _used_ to her giving him such wonderful compliments. The older woman had always been very kind to him, and he absolutely _adored_ it when she called him 'Sweetheart'. But under the shower of her praise, and her indirect statement of being _proud_ him, he swelled with rare pride, and practically gushed with appreciation for her saying so. It had been so very long since any type of parental figure had said that they were _proud_ of him…

"Your parents must be so proud," she assumed, and Inuyasha froze. He shook his head and squirted a dollop of soap onto a pot, trying to play off his unusual reaction.

"Oh…uh…um, well, my mom's gone—she…she died a while back…"

"Oh, Inuyasha…I'm so sorry; I had no idea," she was quick to apologize, sending him a sympathetic look.

"It's fine, I'm over it," he said. That wasn't quite true, but he couldn't have her thinking that he was mourning every day, now could he?

"Well, what about your father? Surely he's proud of you."

"My dad…he…he's not really into the whole 'art' thing…" Inuyasha lied. He felt bad lying to Mrs. Higurashi; the woman had been so wonderful to him. It was necessary, however.

"Really? Hm," she grunted thoughtfully. "I would think that a parent would be interested in whatever talent a child possessed."

"It's just…well…I think he puts value in…other places, I guess," Inuyasha mumbled. What in the world was Mrs. Higurashi getting at?

"Other places such as?"

"Well, I…I'm…I'm not smart like my brother," he said with a wince. 'How does she _do_ that?' he thought with a slight frown. 'Like mother, like daughter. Damn it.'

"Really? You strike me as a very intelligent young man, Inuyasha," she said thoughtfully. She took a piece of chicken breast from the package and began to cut it into chunks.

"Keh," he grunted with another blush.

"And don't forget: there are many different kinds of intelligence," she reasoned. 'Where have I heard _that_ before?' he thought.

"So do you plan on going into art in college?" she asked suddenly. Inuyasha grimaced, and scrubbed at a particularly stubborn piece of cabbage that had adhered to a pot.

"Oh…um…college…I don't know about that," he admitted.

"Why not? From what I've seen, you'd do very well in a rigorous art program; your work is so very life-like."

"Thanks, but…I don't think I could do it anyway," he muttered.

"Why not?" she repeated.

"My…my dad—well…I don't think we could afford it," he said quietly. He hoped that she would drop the subject and let that be the end of it. She didn't.

"Well there are all types of scholarships, Sweetheart," she continued. I'm sure there's one out there that could fit your needs."

"I still don't think I could go; my dad wants to…keep me close…" he muttered. 'Because there's nothing like a hunk of your taxes being cut off because you have a dependent,' he thought bitterly.

"Keep you close? How long does he plan on doing that?"

"I don't know…"

"He can't very well keep you locked up in his house past eighteen," she commented. Inuyasha shot her a look over his shoulder. She was still innocently chopping chicken, not looking at him, a slight frown on her face. Why did he get the distinct feeling that Mrs. Higurashi was…digging for something?

"I guess not…" Mrs. Higurashi retrieved the wok he'd just washed and dumped the chopped food from the cutting board into it, adding a few seasonings and oils. She turned the stove on beside him and set the wok onto the burner.

"Just…be aware, Inuyasha. Now, I'm not saying that you should go against your father's wishes. He is your father and guardian, and I have no right to do that, and I certainly have no say in the matter. But…just a bit of advice for life? Be aware of the people that want to hinder you and those that want to help you. You need to be able to discern between people what want to hold you back and people that care for you and want you to reach your full potential. Especially when you have so much of it," Mrs. Higurashi said quietly, stirring her dish with a spatula.

Inuyasha stared openly at the side of her face. A slight frown tugged the corners of her mouth downward, and her brows creased in…something. Inuyasha frowned as well. Was Kagome one of those girls who told their mothers everything? He had to wonder…Mrs. Higurashi was striking chords that were all too deep.

"You'll keep that in mind, won't you, Dear?" she prodded, after his lack of response.

"I…" Inuyasha was at a loss for words. Did she know? Had Kagome told?

"Even family members can harbor ill will, Inuyasha."

"Y-yeah…I-I know…I'll k-keep that in mind," he managed to get out.

"You must miss her very much, Sweetheart," Mrs. Higurashi said quietly after a while. "Your mother," she supplied needlessly. Inuyasha swallowed thickly.

"Y-yeah…"

"I can imagine. I remember how absolutely distraught we were when we lost my husband…It was horrible. Your father must have been in absolute shambles," she guessed. Inuyasha bit his lip and shrugged.

"He wasn't around then," he said briefly. 'Kami, what's with the third-degree?' he wondered. He didn't want to snap at Kagome's mother; she was so sweet to him. But he got the distinct feeling that she was interrogating him…albeit, in a very nice, kind manner…

"Ah…I see," Mrs. Higurashi murmured. Bit by bit, she was building Inuyasha's apparently tragic history in her mind. Despite the fact that he was over half a foot taller than herself and several times stronger, he was still so obviously a lost young boy; his constant eagerness to surround himself with her family, courtesy of her daughter showed that much. He absolutely broke her heart.

Eyeing him surreptitiously out of the corner of her eye, she took in his appearance. She could see no evidence of abuse on his person; there was no bruising on his face or scarring on his hands. But she was not so foolish to believe that those were the only areas where he could be hurt. His shabby dress told her that he was obviously not well cared for. The baggy sweatshirt that was his usual sported several holes of various shapes and sizes, and was quite tattered at the cuffs. She made a mental note to offer to mend it for him, and wondered why he neglected to wear the one the kids had gotten him for his birthday.

His long white hair hung limply from his head, its shade almost perfectly matched with the pallid color of his skin, and she wondered about the quality of nourishment the boy was getting at home. Adding to her increasingly long list of mental notes, she silently made him a promise that he would always receive nutritious meals while he was at her home.

"I remember that when my husband died, I didn't know what to do with myself," she told him softly, adding a bit of oil to her dish. She didn't often talk about Minowa's death with anyone outside of her children and her father. But she knew that in order to get something, you had to give something. She had no doubt that it would be the same in the case of making Inuyasha more comfortable around her. "It took quite some time for us all to get back to normal without him."

"How…how did Kagome and Souta…you know…take it?"

"Well Souta was only three at the time. He doesn't really remember much of what happened. But Kagome was twelve, and she took it very hard. She and her father were so very close."

"Do they ever…um…talk—well…actually, never mind," he muttered embarrassedly.

"Do they ever what?" she prodded gently. "Talk to him? Give him an update?" Inuyasha nodded mutely. "Of course. It doesn't ever hurt to keep him abreast of what's going on with us. It's almost therapeutic to do so."

"So…it's not…weird…if I still talk to my mom?" he almost whispered. He kept his occasional trips to the cemetery a secret from everyone, even Kagome. Before he'd met her, his one-sided conversations with his mother's gravestone had been all the social life he'd had; he didn't want Kagome to think him pathetic.

"Of course it isn't, Sweetheart," she said kindly. She placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle pat. "I'm sure she would be very proud of you. You're the type of young man that would make a mother proud."

"I'm back! Kami, Mom, do you know how hard it was to find those radishes you wanted? It was _ridiculous_! Hey, Inuyasha!" Kagome greeted cheerily, setting the bags of groceries atop the kitchen table. For once, Inuyasha's attention was not immediately captured by the lively girl that entered the room, as he was still stuck on Mrs. Higurashi's kind words. She'd unwittingly, or perhaps wittingly, eased a sore spot that he'd had: that he wouldn't live up to his mother's unspoken expectations. The long harbored fears that he would be inadequate, that he would dishonor his mother and disgrace her name in any number of ways were called into question with the older woman's gentle reassurances. He smiled weakly. Perhaps…perhaps if Mrs. Higurashi didn't think he was a failure, and the rest of her wonderfully accepting family didn't think he was a failure…then perhaps he could begin to believe it himself.

"Kagome, Sweetie, don't worry about those groceries. I'll put them away. You and Inuyasha go and have a good time," she urged, pushing her daughter's hands away from the plastic bags.

"Okay, Mom…if you're sure."

"I'm sure. Go on, get out and have some fun," she instructed as she shooed them out of the door.

"Thank you, Mrs. Higurashi," Inuyasha murmured quietly from the stoop, so low that Kagome couldn't hear.

"You're quite welcome, Honey," she replied with a warm smile, an affectionate hand running through his hair.

As she watched the pair descend the shrine stairs, she could only hope and pray that the boy who'd come to fit so securely into their family would realize where his true home should lie. She was no fool. She knew that it would most likely be quite the difficult adjustment. She knew the massive amounts of red tape and complicated legalities that she would have to go through to legally take Inuyasha into her custody.

But she also knew how close her daughter had grown to the boy. She knew that the feeling was mutual. She knew just how desperate he was for acceptance, love, and guidance. She knew to some extent of the atrocities that were committed against him, and she certainly knew how he'd managed to retain a certain innocence and sweetness about him even in the face of such adversity. There was no way in the world that she could knowingly deny a child a safe haven. And so, when he finally relented, she would offer hers to him.

* * *

"Inuyasha! Have you seen this?" Kagome blurted loudly from the computer desk. Across the room, Inuyasha idly flipped through the pages of the literary terms book that Kagome had been making him practice with, eyeing the lines with distaste.

"See what?"

"This link I sent you."

"You sent me a link?"

"Yeah, like days ago."

"Oh."

"Haven't you checked your email?"

"Honestly? I haven't even looked at that thing since you got back from your grandmother's house."

"Inuyasha, that was like a month ago," Kagome said flatly.

"You're back. No need for it now." Kagome smiled inwardly and continued to scroll through the website.

"Well, anyway, come here, I want you to see this," she urged, beckoning him over. He sighed and heaved himself off of the couch, leaning over her shoulder to read the website's title.

"'Renaissance Youth Art Competition, sponsored by Goro Oichi,'" Kagome read aloud. A slender finger pointed at the screen animatedly as she continued. "'Young people, ages fourteen to nineteen are encouraged to compete in this prestigious competition that has maintained a proud history for over fifty-seven years, and has made Tokyo University a cornerstone of the artistic community, attracting only the top young people to the campus. Come one, come all and display your talents…' Inuyasha, look!" she exclaimed, jabbing a finger at the corner of the screen. "'Grand prize: A full scholarship to Tokyo University'!"

"Great," he mumbled, without much enthusiasm. Kagome looked over her shoulder and frowned.

"What's with the sarcasm? Look at this—the grand prize is a full scholarship, room, board, tuition, books, _everything_ is paid for! But look, even the other prizes are pretty damn good!" she said excitedly. Kagome ticked off the numerous prizes, the obscene amounts of money, and not to mention the connections that he could possible win with much excitement, her pretty face lighting up as she related all of this to him. Inuyasha listened without interruption.

"Inuyasha, you should enter. I really think you could win this. You're so talented; you've got a great shot—"

"No, I don't."

"What do you mean? Of _course_ you do. Inuyasha, you're paintings are the best I've seen. You could totally win this thing. And think about what it could do for you future! You'd have a scholarship to university for doing what you love, art. You'd be free from…you know. You'd have a chance for a _really_ good life, Inuyasha," she insisted, her arguments making quite the compelling case.

"Yeah, but…"

"But _what_? Remember all that stuff you were saying a while back? About not being able to afford college? Well, here's a chance for you to go without having to pay anything! It's perfect!"

"I couldn't enter, though," he said softly, looking down at his hands.

"Why not?"

"I'll give you five reasons. Two of them are on top of my fucking head," he said in a deadpan voice. Kagome's frown deepened.

"Are you saying that you wouldn't be able to enter because you're half-demon?" she asked quietly.

"What else would I be saying?" he spat.

"That's stupid."

"Well, it's been established. Believe me, I've told myself that lots of times, but it doesn't change the fact that I still can't—"

"Of course you can enter."

"No, Kagome, I really can't—"

"I'm looking at the rules and regulations," she said, scrolling down the list of numbered items. "Nowhere in here does it say that hanyous are not allowed to compete."

"That doesn't matter—"

"Of course it does. The rules say that you have to be no younger than fourteen, no older than nineteen, still in high school, and have a desire to pursue art. All of those things apply to you, don't they?"

"Well, yeah, but—"

"Then it should be settled. Inuyasha, you're so good—"

"I _can't_, Kagome!"

"It doesn't _say_ 'no hanyous', Inuyasha!" she argued back hotly.

"It doesn't say 'no dolphins' either, but it's fucking understood!" he shouted. She glared at him, giving him that 'you know what I mean' look. "It would be a waste of time," he said, lowering his volume, "for me to even consider entering."

"How do you know unless you _try_?"

"Kagome…" he started, feeling that frustration welling within him again. He sighed. "Just…just trust me…it'd be a waste of time." Kagome studied him hard for a long moment.

"So. You don't want to enter your work?" she asked quietly.

"No, I don't want to enter my work," he said firmly. She narrowed her eyes at him and bit the inside of her cheek.

"Fine, then. I won't ask you anymore. I'll respect your wishes," she said simply, and turned back to her computer screen.

"Fine. Thank you," he drawled sarcastically. When she didn't respond, he got a bit edgy and fidgety. "Hey…hey, Kagome…you…you're not _mad_ at me…are you?" he asked nervously. The _last_ thing he wanted was for her to be upset with him; he tried his best to avoid it always.

"No, Inuyasha, I'm not mad."

"You sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. I'm not mad at you, really," she assured him, sending him a smile. She truly hadn't gotten angry..

She had formulated a plan.

In order to advance to the next stage of the competition, a photograph of one of the participant's pieces had to be sent in for judging, and if that piece was deemed worthy, the participant could look forward to the next round.

True, Inuyasha had said that he did not want to enter his work.

But he hadn't said that _she_ couldn't do it for him.

* * *

Author's Note: Hope you enjoyed! Review me!

Wowzer313


	18. PDA

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, Rumiko Takahashi does.

Author's Note: I think you're gonna like this one…

**Chapter 18:** PDA

"I don't really see a reason to _celebrate_ the beginning of school…dread, more like," Inuyasha muttered under his breath, arms crossed as he leaned against the doorjamb.

"It's more of a celebration of the beginning of the culmination of our high school career. We're _seniors_, Inuyasha. Can you believe it?" Kagome breathed. She leaned towards the mirror of her bureau as she affixed tiny jeweled studs into her ear lobes. "Seniors. We're almost done with high school."

"Thank Kami."

"It's kind of scary, you know? I mean, after this, it's like stepping into the unknown. It's _adulthood _after this, Inuyasha."

"Yeah…" There was a dark train of thought he didn't need to travel down…where _would_ he go after high school? 'What would I _do_? Become a professional squatter?' he thought with a slight frown.

"But there's no need to worry about stuff like that tonight," Kagome said quickly at seeing his frown. "We're out to have fun. No worries about the future," she added lightly. He grunted his agreement, but the pensive, brooding expression didn't leave his face. Kagome frowned. He'd been so tense lately—on edge and seemingly withdrawn. She couldn't help but think that something terrible had happened at home, but she wasn't positive. She didn't want to press him—she knew that would only make him crab up and then clam up. Kagome sighed. She could only hope that things hadn't worsened for him at home—and that he'd cheer up tonight.

She brushed her hair smooth and rubbed a bit of lip gloss onto her mouth, rubbing her lips together in the mirror. Inuyasha bit his lip and sighed wistfully.

What did it _take_? Was he being too subtle? Or was he being too obvious? Was he giving bad vibes? Was he giving any type of vibes at all? Because, she _knew_, right? She _had_ to know…even _Inuyasha_ now knew that he was obvious in his fawning over her; and Kagome wasn't _dense_, for crying out loud. What _was_ it? What did he have to _do_?

In all honesty, he didn't even know _what_ he was waiting for. He had no idea how to go about this 'relationship' thing, so he wasn't sure exactly _what_ was supposed to happen after he realized he _liked_ the girl.

Inuyasha wondered _why_ Sango and Miroku thought Kagome liked him in the first place. It wasn't as though he were exactly _smooth_. He didn't think he was all that intelligent, and frankly, he didn't think he was all that good looking either. He was quite sure that Kagome knew all of that—so he wondered what she could _possibly_ see in him…if she even saw anything at all for that matter, because he was going purely off of Sango and Miroku's suspiciously demanding encouragements. 'What the hell _do_ I have going for me, anyway?' he thought with distaste.

Truth be told, Inuyasha felt quite inadequate whenever he went out anywhere with Kagome. She was so unbelievably beautiful, and brilliant, and witty, and fun…and him? He was some lowly hanyou, silently pining away for her. He wondered if he would always feel so blaringly inadequate around people he admired…

He uncrossed his arms and shoved his hands into his pockets as he watched her put on her makeup, which, in _his_ humble opinion, she didn't need. He was only half-listening as she blathered on about the movie they were going to see. He occupied his wandering eyes with watching the enticing muscles in her calf move as she shifted her weight from one bare leg to the other. The little jean skirt didn't look like it would offer much protection from the chill in the night air, but hey, if she wanted to wear it…he sure wasn't going to complain…

"Inuyasha? Did you hear me?" she asked.

"Huh?" he grunted, snapping out of his thoughts.

"I said can you pass me the phone?" she repeated, jerking her head in the direction of her bed, while she fixed her ponytail for the fifth time. Inuyasha grabbed the cordless wall phone that rang insistently on her quilt and handed it to her.

"Hello?" she said, hitting the 'talk' button. His eyes scanned the straight lines of her arms and the soft curve of her neck against the shiny, satin material of her sapphire blue top. She pulled the elastic out of her ponytail and shook her head, the alluring scent of her hair hitting him in the face. "What do you mean you can't come?" she whined. Inuyasha snapped to attention, suddenly listening in to both ends of the conversation.

"Well, Kohaku has a cold, and my mom needs me to stay with him," Sango explained. Kagome frowned to Inuyasha, pointing at the phone.

"Sango, Kohaku is fifteen years old," she said bluntly. Sango faltered.

"Uh—er…yeah, but…he's really, _really_ sick, and…um…I have to…um…bleach the drains in the kitchen…and Miroku's helping," she stammered. Kagome pulled the phone away from her ear to frown incredulously at it.

"Okay…Sango, if you guys don't want to go tonight, you can just say you don't want to go," Kagome told her.

"We don't want to come," Sango said bluntly.

"Well, _jeez_, Sango, don't sugarcoat it for me," Kagome drawled sarcastically.

"No, no, no! It's not like that!" she backpedaled. There was a fumbling and a '_thump'_ as the phone apparently changed hands.

"We just want to give you and Inuyasha some…time alone…" came Miroku's smooth voice, a purr of sorts. "Kind of like a date…" he suggested off-handedly. Kagome's stricken gaze slid over to Inuyasha, only to find him beet-red and staring back at her with wide eyes. She drew in a breath through tight lips.

"Okay, then…Miroku, Sango, um…bye," she said awkwardly, and punched the 'end' button with an ominous beep. She cleared her throat, laying the phone down on her dresser top with all too much care. "Well, then…" she started. "I guess it's just me and you tonight then." Inuyasha nodded mutely. "Unless…unless you don't want to go anymore," she added quickly. "Because we don't have to—I mean, we can reschedule, or just drop it entirely—"

"I want to go," he managed to choke out gutturally. Kagome nodded briskly, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Alright-y then…we'll go," she said needlessly.

"Keh."

"We'll still have a good time…" she said to herself.

"Keh."

"It'll still be fun…It'll kind of be…" Kagome steeled her courage and looked him in the eye. "It'll kind of be like a date."

* * *

Inuyasha cursed his sweat glands. The eccrine ones, specifically. He cursed them once, twice, thrice, and then once more for good measure. He'd lost count of how many times he'd scrubbed his palms on his jeans in futile attempts to keep them dry. He sent every kami he could name a grateful prayer that his armpits weren't having the same problem.

If he'd known that a date would be this amazingly nerve-wracking, he might not have wished for one. At the time of Sango and Miroku's phone call, he wasn't sure whether he wanted to thank them or curse them. He was fast leaning toward the latter…

She was looking at him again. How many times, during the course of the drive, had she glanced over at him and given a tiny smile? He didn't know. How many times had he wondered exactly _what_ was going on in that pretty little head of hers? He didn't know. How many times had he gripped the door handle, prepared to launch himself from the moving vehicle, if only to escape the palpable tension that he could feel building? He didn't know.

What he _did_ know was that he wanted her to stop _looking_ at him, because she was making his nerves that much _worse_. He could only imagine the sight he made; he was practically hyperventilating. In those ten minutes that it took to drive to the theatre, Inuyasha could confidently say that he was more afraid of Kagome's next actions than those of his father.

'Well. Now at least you won't have to worry about what to do if she gets close to you; she won't want to now,' he thought sourly as she pulled into a parking space and cut the engine.

Kagome fiddled with her keys idly as she watched Inuyasha across the dark interior of the car. She smiled to herself. He was _so_ intensely adorable. She just wanted to hug him senseless…among other things…

He bit the inside of his cheek, his lips twisting to one side as his fingers drummed against his knees, which were crammed up against the dashboard in their usual way. He looked everywhere but her face. She knew that she was the direct cause of his discomfort. It wasn't that they'd never gone anywhere alone. They had many times. But it was definitely the first time she'd ever suggested that the outing would have any deviations from anything purely platonic. Now that she'd basically said that they were on a date, her poor friend seemed to have lost all sense of everything.

He was so pale and silent, so obviously nervous and tense that she would have felt guilty for putting him through what she had if it weren't for two things:

One, she was ready to be more than just his friend. She wasn't stupid. She knew he liked her. She could see it in the way he'd watch her as she did even the most miniscule of tasks, in the way he'd shyly, almost silently compliment her at the most random moments, in the way he was so careful touch her as little as possible for fear of doing something he thought might anger her. She could tell he liked her, and she tried to drop hints that she felt the same…somehow she got the feeling that he wasn't quite catching on to her subtlety…

And two…well. He was just too damned cute.

She reached out to place a hand on his thigh. He jerked, his eyes snapping to her hand, then to her eyes, and back again.

"Inuyasha? Are you alright?"

"Y-yup…I'm fine," he croaked. "I'm good."

"Okay. You ready to go in? Or do you just want to sit in the car all night?" she joked. He seemed to seriously consider it, though.

"No…I'll go in…" he mumbled, fumbling with his seatbelt buckle.

Outside of the car, Kagome hunched into her jacket before slinging her arm through Inuyasha's. He stiffened and she could feel the breath he was holding.

"It's okay. Relax, alright? It's just me," she soothed.

"That's not as much of a comfort as you think it is," he said with a tight chuckle and a self-conscious grimace. Kagome affectionately nudged into him and tugged on the knot of his bandana.

"It'll be fine. Just relax, okay? I'm not going to jump your bones," she smiled.

As they stood in the ridiculously long line to purchase their tickets, Inuyasha began to realize two very important things:

One, Kagome attracted the attention of many other men.

Two, he did _not_ like it. At all.

He very well aware of the fact that it wasn't the first time Kagome had been stared at, ogled, or sent what Inuyasha felt were overly appreciative glances while she was with him. He hadn't liked it _then _either. However, the simple fact that they were on a _date_, as she'd said herself made his lower left eyelid twitch insistently at every wayward glance, comment or tick of the eyebrow that was sent her way.

"Hey, check her out," a boy in the next line over said to his friend, jerking his head in Kagome's direction. His friend pursed his lips, his eyes trailing her figure appreciatively.

"I'd hit it," the second laughed. Inuyasha's nostrils flared at the implications of that statement, and he unwittingly tightened his hold on the girl. He managed to catch the first boy's eye, and sent him a glare so frigid, the air temperature dropped three degrees. The boy glanced from Inuyasha to Kagome, and back again. He challenged Inuyasha silently, daring him to say something.

Kagome, meanwhile, was completely oblivious to the silent war that waged on between her date and the complete strangers. It was a good thing she was such a chatterbox; she hardly noticed Inuyasha's lack of contribution to the conversation she was apparently having with herself.

"Just try something," Inuyasha mouthed to the boys. "I dare you." The pair smirked at each other, sized Inuyasha up, and looked as though they wanted to start a confrontation. Inuyasha casually slipped his hand out of his jeans pocket, and flexed his fingers, giving the boys a good look at the five weapons that tipped his fingers. He set his mouth with satisfaction when their eyes widened and they turned away, giving him the reaction he knew they would—one of fear. They'd give him wide berth now.

His throat constricted. His flesh tingled with gooshflesh. His breathing quickened. And his palms…well. They simply continued to sweat. He'd scooted as far on the tiny bench as he could, and there _still_ wasn't enough room for Kagome to sit. In all actuality, he wasn't quite sure _why_ they were doing this anyway…

Kagome had pointed to the tiny cubicle no sooner than they had stepped into the theatre.

"Hey, look! They must have just added that—it wasn't here last time we came," she mused. "Come on, let's go take pictures," she urged.

"Huh? Why?"

"Because it's fun," she said simply, walking across the crowded lobby of the Cineplex towards the photo booth.

"But…but you have cameras at home. You take pictures of us at home all the time—and that's free!" Inuyasha argued, confused. Why in the _world_ would she want to pay for something she could do whenever she wanted for free?

"Yeah, but I can't add the cute little backgrounds to it unless I go digital. Besides, it's just _fun_, Inuyasha," she insisted, a persuasive little smile slipping onto her lips. "Please?" Inuyasha cursed. Well. He couldn't very well say no to that, now could he?

"Okay, okay," he said grouchily, not truly feeling that way. She grinned at him in her victory and urged him before her. "Can't risk you bolting on me, so _I'll_ be by the exit," she explained playfully.

Inuyasha pushed the small curtain aside, ducking his head to enter the confining space.

"I'm not gonna bolt," he muttered with a weak smile as she entered after him. She tucked a stray piece of hair behind her ear and smiled at him. She turned to sit…and a good three-fourths of her landed on his thigh.

Inuyasha inhaled sharply. He became very, very still, and waited for her to right herself and sit fully on the small bench. It was hopeless. There wasn't _nearly_ enough room for two people.

"Shoot," she muttered under her breath. "Damn tiny seat." Inuyasha tugged at the already shapeless collar of his t-shirt. He was almost certain that the booth was ten degrees hotter than the rest of the theatre. He was about to tell her not to worry about it. He was about to tell her to just forget the whole thing and take some digital photos when they got home. He was about to tell her that he'd stand, and she could sit, if the pictures at the booth really meant that much to her. He was about to tell her to switch him spots.

"Can I just sit on your lap?"

Inuyasha stopped breathing for so long, spots danced in his vision. He stared at her as she waited expectantly for his answer, half bent over under the low ceiling of the booth. 'She's _serious_,' he realized. 'Answer, moron. Open your mouth and _speak_. Say _something_,' he commanded himself.

"Sure," he wheezed. She smiled a bit, and then seated herself on his right thigh. While she slipped coins into the money acceptor, Inuyasha took a moment to absorb the situation.

In his current position, he was jammed into a tiny two by two rectangle seated on a tiny plank of wood with the girl of his dreams atop his right thigh, her bare legs dangling between his own, and her left arm draped around his shoulders so that she could steady herself. Inuyasha had reflexively put a hand on her hip so that she wouldn't slip off. His left hand sat uselessly beside him; he was unsure of where to place it.

His heard gave way to wild spasms in his chest. She was so close…so very, _very_ close. Wisps of her hair brushed against his highly sensitive lips, drawing breathy gasps from him that he hoped went unnoticed. His nose was working in overdrive, seeking to inhale as much of her scent as possible to store away for later, more leisurely analysis.

He grunted an absent 'Uh-huh' at her inquiry as to what background he wanted. He couldn't have cared less. Didn't she _know_ that? Or did she truly not see how their quite intimate position was affecting him?

Kagome twisted around in Inuyasha's lap, and, reaching her other arm around to the back of his head, deftly unknotted the bandana.

"Take this off. I want to see your ears in these," she said softly. Inuyasha's intense gaze never left her own, though his face was almost fluorescent in its blush. She smiled softly at him, pulling the fabric away from his head slowly, the white hairs ruffled underneath. She was all too aware of their proximity; if she had to hazard a guess, she'd have said that the tip of her nose was only a scant three inches from his own. She could feel the slow, shallow breaths he allowed to escape glancing across her lips, sending chills up and down her spine.

She shifted a bit on his thigh. She'd never noticed quite how _hard_ Inuyasha was…his thigh underneath her, his bicep around her middle, his chest and stomach against her side…Kagome wondered if it was due to hanyou physiology that he was able to maintain what she was sure was an incredible physique when his body was constantly under so much stress. It didn't take her creative mind long to wander and begin to conjure up images of him shirtless and stretched before her.

Her eyes moved to the top of his head where his ears were leaning towards her, completely attuned to her voice, attentive to whatever she might choose to say. She moved her hands from his scalp where his bandana had been tied to the crown of his head, and gently cupped them, one in each hand. His eyes fluttered shut, and he let out a long sigh.

"Inuyasha," she murmured absently, for no real reason—only to say his name.

"Hm…" he hummed. His eyes slid open again, and he seemed to stare into her very soul. "Kagome…" he whispered.

"Yes?"

"Are…are—are we about to kiss?" he asked nervously, still whispering; his voice held a telltale quaver laced through it. If she hadn't been so desperate to do just that, she would have laughed at his child-like, innocent bluntness. Instead, she simply looked back at him, just as intense, just as serious as he.

"If you want us to," she whispered. "Do you want us to?"

"I…I mean…ye—n….I—only…only if you want to," he stammered. Kagome swore the blush was beginning to color the roots of his hair.

"I want to. But I'll only do it if _you_ want me to," she said, a slight teasing tone seeping into her voice. Inuyasha didn't notice.

"I want you to," he breathed, in a whisper so low that she could barely hear him. "I just…I've never…" he stopped. He took a deep breath and attempted to collect himself. "I might…I'm probably really bad at it. I might…disappoint you…"

Of course, Kagome already knew that he'd never been kissed. She had to admit, despite his shyness when it came to all things female, she'd been surprised to find that he'd never been with anyone.

* * *

"It was pretty gross, actually," she said with a wry smile on her face. Inuyasha shifted where he sat on her bed, his back against the wall.

"What was gross about it?"

"Well, if the fact that his breath smelled like radishes wasn't enough, there was the fact that he had braces too…and well…I think the rest is obvious. Needless to say, I never played Spin the Bottle ever again," she mumbled with a chuckle.

"That is pretty disgusting…" Inuyasha agreed.

"The one with my first boyfriend was a lot better though," she added, thinking back. "But that's enough about me. Your turn. Spill it. First kiss, what it like?"

"Um…well…I—"

"Don't you even try to squirm out of his one, Inuyasha. You _have_ to tell me. I told you about mine," she reminded, holding up a finger.

"But I didn't _ask_ you to," he pointed out. "I don't even remember how we got on the subject."

"Even still," she whined. "Come on. Spill. I want _details_ too," she smirked, nudging his calf with her toe. She settled more fully against her pillow and popped a few more kernels of popcorn into her mouth as she waited for him to tell.

"I…I've never actually…" he trailed off, giving her a pointed look. She waited with anticipation, looking at him expectantly. He sighed, his cheeks reddening. "I've never…_you_ know…" he said leadingly. Kagome frowned before realization dawned on her face.

"Are…are you _serious_?" she squeaked. Inuyasha flattened his ears in embarrassment.

"Keh! Dunno what you were expecting!" he snapped. "I'm a _hanyou_, remember?"

"Well, yeah, but…" Kagome trailed off, for a rare moment, at a loss for words. "But…I mean, Kami, _never_? You've _never_ been kissed?"

"No," he muttered.

"Have you…have you ever had a…girlfriend?" she asked hesitantly. He gave her an intensely sour look.

"_No_."

"What about…what about a date?"

"Kami! _No_!"

"Oh…wow…"

"I don't know why you're so surprised. Who wants to go out with a _hanyou_? Nobody in their right mind, that's who."

"But…but…couldn't the girls at Asahara see how absolutely _gorgeous_ you are?" she asked in wonder. Inuyasha flushed, and shot her a wide-eyed, incredulous look.

"Keh!" he gulped. "Yeah right…"

"I'm serious, Inuyasha," Kagome insisted. "You're _hot_…"

"Keh."

"I'm not kidding. I don't know, I guess…I'm just kind of shocked that a guy like you has never had a girlfriend or anything…" Inuyasha fisted his hands in her sheet, looking away from her. Kagome smirked at his antics. "What? You don't think you're cute? I'm telling you, Inuyasha…the girls at your old school must have been blind. Or just stupid," she assured him.

* * *

She would have given him his first kiss then…but she'd been afraid that perhaps she would inadvertently give the poor boy an embolism instead.

Kagome smiled at the memory. She'd truly enjoyed making him blush that hard. Just as she was enjoying it now…how the skin on the bridge of his nose would go pink first, and then spread to his cheeks, until his entire face was a healthy, vibrant red.

"You wouldn't disappoint me," she whispered her assurance.

"H-how do you know?" he whispered back. "I…I'm telling you…I'm _warning _you that I'm probably really, _really_ bad at it, and—" He was cut off by her pinching his lips shut between her thumb and the knuckle of her index finger.

"And you call _me_ the chatterbox. You talk too much sometimes too," she informed him. He watched her, calculating and waiting, yet so openly nervous and tense that she wanted him all the more. "Just shut up." Tilting his face upwards between her cupped hands so that she had a better view from her elevated position in his lap, she smiled softly down at him, stroked his chin with her thumb.

Inuyasha couldn't move. He was paralyzed, physically, mentally…he could have sworn that all higher functions had ceased. He held his breath; he couldn't have let it go if he tried. Right then, his entire world consisted of a two by two plywood box, and the woman on his lap, in his arms, in his heart. His eyes remained open as hers began to close. They remained open as she moved towards his face, and even as her full lips parted slightly, his eyes remained open, half-lidded and heavy.

She stopped a hair's breadth away from his lips, the moist warmth of her breath dancing across his trembling mouth as he waited. She was so close to him, he could feel her smile as she closed the less than a millimeter gap between them and kissed him.

Half-mast eyes flew open and his skin broke out into a fresh smattering of goosebumps. A shudder rammed through him with such fierce intensity that his hand gripped reflexively against her hip. Kagome's soft hand stroked his face gently, from his temple to the corner of his mouth and back again, never pulling away from his lips.

His head was spinning, shapeless mush; he never thought anyone would touch him with such gentleness, with such care. How was he to know it could feel like this? How was he to know that he'd ever be touched by something so delicate, so tender? How was he to know that anything could feel like this? How was he to know that the soft, warm pull of her lips would threaten to drive him crazy?

Her lips moved expertly over his, opening and closing at rhythmic intervals. Inuyasha lost the battle with his eyelids and allowed them to slip closed. He sat there, taking everything she gave him and enjoying it immensely. He felt bad that he wasn't doing anything, but he had to admit, he had no idea exactly what to do. She absolutely robbed him of breath.

Kagome's arm tightened around his neck as she pulled away from him. She opened her eyes to regard him and smiled. Even with his eyes still closed, he looked amazed, astonished, flabbergasted. It was priceless.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, blinking rapidly, and glanced at her self-consciously before looking away.

"I think that's been building up for a really long time now," she murmured as she rubbed a length of white hair between her fingertips. He cleared his throat and nodded jerkily.

"Mm-hm…" he mumbled. "I…I've wanted…to do that for…a while," he added with a blush.

"I guess we can make up for lost time, then, hm?" she quipped. Inuyasha gave her a suspicious look just before she ducked her head to grace him with a truly magnificent, consuming kiss.

For his part, Inuyasha, a bit emboldened at Kagome's blatant encouragement and obvious eagerness, made his first attempt to respond in kind. He hesitantly tilted his head to kiss her back this time, and was rewarded handsomely for his efforts. Kagome pulled away, and he was disappointed for a moment—he wondered if he'd done something wrong. She came back to him, however, and slowly, leisurely kissed his top lip, then his bottom. Inuyasha flushed with embarrassment as he released a moan of pleasure that he simply couldn't restrain. He felt her smile against his mouth, and in an instant of rare courage, he lifted his left hand, ready to cup her face delicately as she'd done to him so many times before.

A sudden, angry banging on the side of the booth broke the intimate peace they'd had, froze them both on the spot, and opened their little cocoon to the sounds of the rest of the Cineplex. The curtain to the little space was roughly shoved aside, and a beet red, perfectly round and balding head poked into the door.

"Ex_cuse_ me!" the squat man snorted. "This is _not_ a make out booth! It's a _picture_ booth! This type of smut will _not _be tolerated at this theatre!" he spat.

"Sorry," Kagome said meekly. Inuyasha peeked at her. She didn't _look_ sorry. And she surely hadn't moved; her arm was still wrapped around his neck, and her hand still cradled his face against her palm.

"Out! Out, out out! Get _out_ of this booth!" the man commanded.

She slipped off of his lap, and he quickly stood, unthinking as he did so. His head connected quite soundly with the booth's ceiling.

"Ow, _shit_!" he hissed, a hand flying up to rub his bruised skull. The young couple stepped out of the booth to face a line of angry-looking moviegoers.

"If you must act out your uncontrollable hormonal impulses, you must do it _else_where! _Certainly _not in the same _photo _booth where _families _take _pictures, _and _certainly _not on _my_ watch," he said snottily. He flipped a shiny piece of paper at them. It fluttered to the floor, and Kaogme bent to pick it up.

"We're very sorry," she repeated emotionlessly.

"Y-yeah…" Inuyasha added helpfully. The man glared at him, his beady eyes scanning the boy from head to toe.

"_Half-breed,_" he sneered disgustedly. "Young lady…you should be _ashamed _of yourself. Reducing yourself to slutting around with a _hanyou. _It's _shameful_," he emphasized hatefully. Inuyasha felt his blood boil and his skin prickle, and suddenly, his throbbing head was forgotten. That was _it._ He was _not_ about to allow this stump of a man to insult Kagome. He would _not_ have a repeat of that day he'd found her sobbing in the parking lot.

"Listen, dumbass," he began hotly. "If you think you can just—"

"Inuyasha, it's alright," Kagome said calmly, putting a hand on his forearm.

"The hell it is!" he exclaimed. "He just—" She cut him off when she gripped the back of his neck and pulled him down to her level for a deep, lingering kiss. Inuyasha squeaked in surprise, all of the words he'd been ready to spew seeping out of him. He didn't have time to close his eyes before she relinquished her hold on him. She grinned at him devilishly.

"He just doesn't know the pleasures of hanyou kisses. That's all," she said brightly, acting as if the man weren't there, as if they didn't have an audience of about twenty teens, adults, and staff members. Inuyasha gaped at her. "I pity him really…come on. We've got a movie to see," she said casually, and took his hand in hers, leading him away from the gawking onlookers. Inuyasha tossed them an incredulous look over his shoulder, then glanced at the girl at his side, looking as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

He couldn't help but flash a smile to those they'd left behind.

* * *

He didn't know if Kagome seriously expected him to have followed the movie after what they'd shared in the photo booth. After coming down off of his high from the exhilarating kiss she planted on him in front of the crowd, the enormity of the situation descended upon him.

They'd _kissed_.

They'd kissed on the _lips_.

He sat beside her in the darkened theatre, replaying the scene over and over in his mind, his tongue occasionally flicking out to taste the bit of grape-flavored lip gloss she'd left on him.

The only thing he knew about the movie was that it was supposed to be a comedy. He hadn't been paying it any attention…although the giant, goofy smiles that occasionally crossed his face might have fooled Kagome into thinking that he was…

* * *

She laced her fingers through his as they exited the theatre with a contented sigh. Inuyasha allowed himself to revel in the peaceful feeling that had been pressing at him all evening. He had so many things he wanted to ask her, yet restrained, not wanting to disrupt the calm mood. They passed the darkened interiors of the strip mall's closed shops on the way to her car.

She suddenly shook, her soft giggles breaking him out of his reverie.

"What?" he asked quietly. Was she laughing at him? He couldn't stop the unbidden question from rising to the forefront of his mind.

"Look at us," she said, her head nodding to the reflective glass of one store. Inuyasha studied their hazy reflection, smiling at the sight. They really looked…like a couple. His normally icy heart warmed and he squeezed her hand. "Who would have thought, hm?"

"Mm-hm."

"I mean, think about it. Just a little less than a year ago, you hated me."

"I didn't _hate_ you," he argued. She gave him a dry look.

"Okay, you didn't like me very much," she amended.

"Okay…"

"Look at how far we've come. It's strange, isn't it? We went from a grouchy, closed off guy and a noisy, nosy girl who sprayed you with toxic snow to this," she marveled quietly as they both watched their reflection. She nudged him. "I think we're pretty damn cute."

"Yeah," he whispered.

"I didn't show you these, look," she said suddenly, pulling out the shiny paper from earlier from her small purse. Inuyasha squeezed her hand as he looked at the four tiny frames. In the first one, he was simply staring at her as she stared back at him, having just removed his bandana. In the second one, they were just millimeters away from each other's mouth. The third, they were fully kissing, his eyes wide and watching her with awe and shock. In the fourth, she'd cupped his face in her hands, and he'd finally joined her fully, his eyes closed. Inuyasha bit his lip and let out a sigh.

"I think…" he started, shutting his eyes.

"You think what?" His eyes slid open to regard her seriously.

"I think we should do that again," he said hesitantly. Kagome smiled.

"I think that's a good idea." Inuyasha waited. Kagome waited. "But you have to kiss me first this time," she whispered. He gulped.

"But—"

"Just kiss me, Inuyasha," she commanded with a sultry little smile. He narrowed his eyes at her. "Come on, you can do it."

He took her other hand in his and interwove their fingers. Pulling her close so that the front of her body just barely brushed against the front of his, he languorously kissed each of her cheek bones twice before softly touching his mouth to hers, his kiss lighter than air and more gentle and loving than any she'd ever had before.

Perhaps it was because he'd never kissed another before her. Perhaps it was because he was simply shy by nature with anything having to do with romance. Or perhaps it was simply because he was naturally good at it, and seemed to have a knack on how to please her. Whatever the reason, Kagome's heart went all aflutter under his attentions, and she returned them with equal care.

"You know…for someone who's never done it before…you're really, _really_ good at that…"

* * *

Author's Notes:

They finally did it! This is the first time I've ever written a kiss, so please, don't hurt me! I'm only an 18, and quite inexperienced! LOL Tell me what you think. But before you do, ponder this:

You know what's funny? I'll tell you what's funny.

Inuyasha's pants.

Does he have a _pump_ in those things or what? They inflate and deflate all the time! Sometimes it's by episode, and sometimes it's by scene! It's so _strange_…I can't figure them out. It just makes me want to nickname him 'thunder thighs'. Oh, man…I feel a possible one-shot coming on!

Oh, wow, I am rolling on the ground laughing so hard right now!!!

Anyway, enough on that little tangent.

Review!

Wowzer313


	19. A Myriad of Eyes

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, Rumiko Takahashi does.

Author's Note: I'm so glad to see that everyone enjoyed that last chapter. I enjoyed writing it.

Now to destroy it all.

JUST KIDDING! Okay…maybe I might ruin it a little…heh heh?

* * *

**Chapter 19:** A Myriad of Eyes

It was with a confident air and a perked up little half smile that Inuyasha knocked on the door of the Higurashi residence the following Monday. He adjusted his book bag on his back as he waited, excited at the prospect of seeing his sanity after so long of a hiatus. It had been a rough weekend after he'd gotten home after the momentous evening, and he hadn't been able to sneak away again to get his breath of fresh air. To see her again this morning would be a much needed reward.

The door creaked open, and the puff of warm air sent a myriad of inviting scents his way. His smile widened fractionally at the sight of the girl who answered said door, still wearing her pajama top and slippers, despite the fact that their normal departure time was a mere ten minutes away. She beamed at him.

"Good morning," she greeted cheerfully.

"Hi."

"I know I'm late," she began, standing aside so that he could enter the warm house. "But…I have a really, _really_ good reason," she said quickly. Inuyasha dropped his bag by the wall and removed his shoes, as they would obviously be held up for a while longer. Not that it mattered to him; time spent away from school was time well spent in his opinion.

"It's fine with me," he shrugged, leaning against the back of the couch as he waved a greeting to Mrs. Higurashi through the doorway of the kitchen.

"Don't you want to hear what it is?" she pressed excitedly. He raised an eyebrow.

"I guess…does it involve me?"

"Of _course_ it does. I wouldn't be wanting you to know so badly if it didn't involve _you_," she grinned. Well, _now_ he was intrigued.

"Inuyasha, Dear, would you like a quick breakfast? Since Kagome isn't ready to leave yet, and you'll already be late, you might as well," Mrs. Higurashi asked, poking her head into the foyer. Kagome nodded her head in the direction of the delicious smells, encouraging him to go ahead.

"Okay, sure. Thank you."

"It's no problem, Sweetheart."

"Wait, before you do that," Kagome said quickly, gripping his sleeve. "Good morning," she greeted again. She tiptoed up and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips and smiled up at him. "_That's_ how you're supposed to greet your girlfriend," she said matter-of-factly. Inuyasha blushed lightly and nodded, mentally promising her that he'd never make the mistake again.

"Girlfriend?" he asked, awe lacing his voice. She smirked and kissed the tip of his nose, causing his blush to deepen.

"Of course. What'd you think?"

"Well, I mean, I _thought_ so, but…still. Hearing you say it is different," he mumbled. Steeling his courage, he leaned down and kissed tentatively kissed her lips twice before pulling away.

"You two better get in here before the food gets cold!" Mrs. Higurashi's voice cut through the tender moment. Kagome took his hand as they headed into the kitchen where her mother had already set out dishes of food.

"Kagome, did you tell Inuyasha his good news?" the woman asked as she placed plates in front of the two teens. Inuyasha shot Kagome a questioning look as he spooned some food onto his plate.

"What news?" he asked. Kagome jumped up from the table.

"Nope! Not yet! I was just about to. I'll be right back!" She said excitedly, and dashed out of the room. Inuyasha frowned questioningly at Mrs. Higurashi.

"What is she—"

"How are you this morning, Honey?" Mrs. Higurashi asked pleasantly, in an obvious attempt to throw him off Kagome's trail.

"How come she—"

"Is the food okay?" she cut in.

"Why is Kago—"

"How is school going?" Inuyasha huffed exasperatedly, grouchily, and shoveled a bit of food into his mouth, griping inside. What was so big of a damned secret that he couldn't know? It involved him, didn't it?

"Here it is!" Kagome shouted excitedly, bursting into the kitchen. Her shirt had been put on in obvious haste; she had a pair of socks tucked under her arm, and her ebony hair hung from her head in attractive disarray. She held out a crumpled envelope to Inuyasha, a radiant smile lighting her pretty face. He took it, confused.

"Mail?"

"For you," she said breathlessly as she seated herself on the floor and pulled the socks onto her feet. Inuyasha checked the address. It was true. The envelope was addressed to him, Inuyasha Chikamatsu.

"At your house? What for?" he asked, puzzled. She pressed her lips together in barely contained mirth and clasped her hands together in clear anticipation.

"Just open it!" she instructed. Inuyasha glanced at Mrs. Higurashi, only to see her beaming at him as well, looking proud of him, as though he'd just been awarded a Nobel Peace Prize. 'What is going _on_ here?' he wondered at the women's antics. He moved to slip a claw underneath the seal.

"It's already open," he remarked.

"I know! I know! I just _had_ to open it! Will you just read the darned letter?" Kagome begged loudly. Inuyasha shrugged and pulled the letter from its envelope, unfolding it quickly. His eyes widened bit by little bit as he read each word, each line.

"You…you…oh, Kami…" he murmured softly. His eyes snapped to Kagome, still seated on the floor, bouncing up and down slightly in her excitement. "How…you…"

"I'm so _proud_ of you, Inuyasha!" she exclaimed, jumping up suddenly. "Aren't you excited?"

"I…I…"

"You're speechless, I know! I was too! But I'm so _excited_ for you!"

"It's quite an accomplishment, Dear," Mrs. Higurashi added quietly. "That competition doesn't just move anyone on to the second round."

"Read it out loud! I just want to hear you read it," Kagome said, settling herself next to him. Inuyasha cleared his throat and shook his head out of its haze, focusing his eyes once more on the tiny print.

"Dear, Mr. Chikamatsu," he began. "C-c-congratulations. We at the Renaissance Youth Art Competition are pleased to inform you of your…your advancement into the next round of the…of the contest," he read haltingly. "Competition was fierce, and to have outperformed so many other first-round entrants at this stage is an accomplishment to be truly proud of. The committee was highly impressed by your brilliant use of winter colors and natural lighting to convey such…such deep and tender feelings. We will be honored if you would accept our invitation to be one of the twenty contestants in the final round of the competition…Sincerely, Goro Oichi…" Inuyasha finished in almost a whisper.

"I'm _so_ happy for you, Inuyasha," Kagome said again, hugging him from the side. He blinked hard and shook his head again.

"I…I can't believe this…" he murmured. "You…_you_ did this," he accused her softly. She had enough decency to look somewhat guilty…though not _too_ guilty…

"Yeah…And I hope you're not mad—look! You're just as amazing as I told you you are!" she pointed out, poking at a sentence in the letter. "They think you're great too." Inuyasha smiled and shook his head disbelievingly at the paper, letting out an incredulous breath.

"Yeah…I…I guess so…"

"So you aren't mad at me?" she pushed mischievously. He slanted her a look out of the corner of his eye, his lips lifting in a smile.

"Nah…"

"I _knew_ you wanted to be in that competition," Kagome said knowingly.

"Well, no kidding. I always _wanted_ to be in it…I just never thought I _could _get in it…"

* * *

Inuyasha stood in front of the rack of paintings, fists planted firmly on his hips as he thoughtfully chewed his lip. On an impulse, he closed his eyes and pulled one from the row, then opened them to regard the choice.

His nose wrinkled in distaste at the portrait. Kikyou's haughty gaze pierced through him from the canvas, her lips twisted into a little smirk. 'Definitely _not_,' he thought darkly, and set the picture aside, labeling the area the 'discard' pile. He closed his eyes again and selected another.

He immediately dropped the canvas into the discard pile without a second thought. The angry, sangria-red, intensely burning eyes of his father staring after him, as though challenging him for daring to put his portrait into the discard pile. Inuyasha shivered. Perhaps he was better than he thought, if his own paintings could instill fear in him. His gaze being dragged back to the macabre depiction of the elder demon, Inuyasha huffed and quickly turned it over.

Turning his attention back to the task at hand, he picked another random painting, this time, from the very end of the rack. He sighed despondently at the one he'd inadvertently chosen. It had been so long since he'd seen those eyes, those large, watery, resonant-blue eyes; eyes that undoubtedly held just as much sorrow as his own. Inuyasha leaned against the adjacent wall as he studied the portrait, his brow wrinkling at the image of the young boy. He wondered where he was now, what he was doing, _how_ he was doing.

He would have kept in touch. Unfortunately, it had been impossible to do so.

* * *

Inuyasha held his mother's hand in a death grip as they walked the concrete path up to the foreboding school that loomed ahead. He bit his lip agitatedly, and his other hand picked anxiously at the hem of his t-shirt. His mother gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

"It'll be alright, Sweetheart," she said softly. She sounded so sure. Inuyasha wasn't.

"Mommy—" he started as they entered the front office of the school.

"Hello," his mother greeted the secretary. "I'm Izayoi Chikamatsu. I called earlier this morning to get my son enrolled in your school," she explained. The woman regarded them coldly over the half-circles of her rimless spectacles, her icy eyes narrowing at the sight of the nervous child that stood next to the human woman. A chill ran through Inuyasha as her upper lip lifted in disgust, revealing a sharp, blood-red fang. She was a demon, that much he knew. What kind however, escaped him. He whimpered and ducked behind his mother's leg. She petted his head gently, comforting him.

He didn't listen to the rest of the exchange, as his attention was promptly caught by the variety of people that paraded through the doors of the office. He'd never been around other demons; this would be his first demon school. And so, he'd never truly realized how many types of demons there were; his eyes widened at the assortment of colors, sizes and shapes their features came in. In the time that he stood there behind the protection of his mother's leg, he swore he didn't see any one demon that looked like another.

"Come on, Inuyasha. Time to take you to class," his mother cooed, taking his hand once more.

They walked the brightly colored hallways hand in hand, and as they did, Izayoi tried to ease him into the idea of attending a demon school.

"Oh, Sweetheart…we've talked about this, remember, Baby?" she asked softly as he voiced his fear again. "It's worth a try, right? To get to know some other demons?"

"I guess so…" Inuyasha mumbled. First grade hadn't gone too well for him at a human school. It was at the end of that school year that he was all too aware that there was something distinctly odd about him other than his ears, eyes and hair; something big that separated him from the rest of the boys and girls in his class. He'd been supplied with a vast repertoire of words for that difference, making his vocabulary quite extensive for a seven year-old: abomination, devil's spawn, immoral, abhorrence, half-breed…Yes, by the end of first grade, Inuyasha was quite aware of how society viewed him.

That was why his mother thought it a good idea to try a demon school for her son. She supposed that if humans didn't accept him, surely demons would. Surely they would accept one of their own, right? Surely they couldn't be as cruel as the humans had been?

Izayoi knew she was grasping at straws; she knew that the chance of demons at this school or any school, elementary, middle school or high school accepting her son were slim to none. But she was desperate. She was willing to try anything to wipe the brokenhearted, disconsolate look off of her baby's face; the one that appeared everyday after school, every time he was called a name, every time he was irreparably hurt.

Tai's words had resounded relentlessly in her head even as she called the school.

"_It would be a half breed, Izayoi! Nothing more! No one would want it—"_

She'd shaken those thoughts loose. She couldn't allow bad memories to stop her from trying to make life better for her son.

"Okay, then," she said, offering him a reassuring smile as they reached his assigned classroom. She crouched to be at eye-level with him. His head hung low as he stared at the ground. Curling a finger under his chin, she raised his face until he looked doubtfully at her. "Inuyasha. Baby, smile." She kissed his cheek. "Come on, Honey, be brave."

"I don't wanna go to school anymore, Mama," he said fearfully, shaking his head. Izayoi lightly cupped his face between her palms.

"You have to, Sweetie. It'll be alright—you'll do great, I know it," she assured him. He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. "I love you, Baby," she told him. She brushed his bangs away from his forehead and pressed a kiss there. He wrapped his arms tightly around her neck in a fierce hug before she could get away.

"Love you too," he whispered. After a good long while, he let her go, and she stroked his hair once more before departing.

Inuyasha stood alone in the hallway until he could no longer hear her footsteps. Turning to the suddenly intimidating door, decoratively adorned with colorful handprints, Inuyasha turned the handle and entered.

The room, at first bustling and alive with activity, died down no sooner than Inuyasha had taken three steps into it. He averted his eyes from the other children's probing gazes, and shuffled to the closest empty chair at the round tables. He sat down heavily, wishing he could just disappear. He shut his eyes painfully as he felt, more than saw, the other children shift their chairs away from him.

"He smells like human," one girl whispered loudly.

"He was just _with_ a human," another responded.

"I _know_ that, Ichigo!" the first girl said indignantly. "But _he_ smells like human. _You_ can't smell that 'cause your only a wimpy _pheasant_ youkai, and you can't hardly smell _anything_," she taunted, sticking her tongue out for emphasis. Ichigo crossed her stick-thin arms, the ridge of brown and red feathers that lined them puffing up a bit in her annoyance.

"_So_?" she drawled, offended.

"He smells like the other one," a boy cut in. Inuyasha looked up, as the voice that was uncomfortably close. A thicker boy, shaggy with hair that grew in thick clumps towered over him, his tiny eyes peering curiously at Inuyasha. Fat fingers darted forward to pinch a tender ear between their tips and twist. Inuyasha yelped sharply and jumped up from his seat.

"Stop it!" he shouted angrily. His pain intensified for the split second it took to wrench the sensitive ear out of the boy's firm grip. It was only then that Inuyasha truly realized just how large the boy was. His eyes traveled from the boy's dirty, untied sneakers, up the length of his grubby jeans, up the expanse of his smudged shirt and finally to his soiled face.

"What're _you_ lookin' at?" the large boy sneered. Inuyasha gulped.

"I…don't—" The boy snatched Inuyasha's bag from the table and threw it a few feet away.

"Get outta my seat," he said flatly, and promptly sat down. Inuyasha stood uselessly by for a few shocked moments before he resignedly went to retrieve his thrown bag.

Gripping the bag in his hands, he stood in the center of the classroom alone, wondering what his next move should be. He spied the teacher, elusive up until that point, at her desk towards the rear of the room and moved to ask her what to do when a hand encircled his upper arm. Seized with fear and praying to Kami that what ever was holding him wouldn't hurt him, he was whirled around and yanked forward.

"Ah—!"

"Shh!" came the whispered command. "You don't wanna talk to her," said the voice warningly. "She'll hurt you."

'_You'll_ hurt me!' he thought frantically, tugging at the boy's grip on him.

Inuyasha couldn't say a word as he looked up into the face of an even bigger demon than the boy who had just accosted him. Inuyasha had always been small for his age; he'd been smaller in stature compared to even his human classmates. At this school, that difference was even more exaggerated; the students at this school could undoubtedly inflict more damage upon his person. This he was sure of. His little heart was beating a mile a minute, and he felt rather shaky.

"Let me go!" he exclaimed frightfully.

"Don't go to Miss. She'll hurt you," the demon repeated. He released Inuyasha's arm, and the boy was tempted to do just the opposite of his instructions and run to the woman. He would have, if the scary demon hadn't looked like he had…

He was hunched over, bent as though he were perpetually carrying a heavy load. His long, thin arms hung to the floor, his knuckles scraped the ground just between his feet. The tawny skin that covered him looked leathery and thick, and from the crown of his head sprouted coarse-looking bristles of jet black hair. To Inuyasha, his bulbous eyes looked like blue Jell-o, and his mouth, which didn't look capable of emitting any sounds similar to proper Japanese, only had about four teeth from what he could see. Had he been less intriguing to look at, Inuyasha might have done an about face and went straight for the teacher's desk. Well. Now his curiosity was peaked.

"Why…why will she hurt me?" he asked hesitantly. The demon shifted a bit, and scratched his bristly head with long, clawed fingers.

"You're a half demon, right?" he asked. Inuyasha nodded self-consciously. "Miss doesn't like half-demons. She'll beat you if you talk to her. See?" The demon rolled up the cuff of his pant leg and showed Inuyasha what was left of a deep scar. "I don't talk to her anymore. She leaves me alone now." Inuyasha's eyes popped open wide.

"_You're_ a _half_ demon?" he asked incredulously. The boy nodded. Inuyasha couldn't stop himself from staring openly, his mouth dropping in surprise. "How _old_ are you?"

"_Sev_en," he answered defensively, pencil-thin eyebrows crinkling. "How old are _you_?" he shot back.

"Seven, but…" Inuyasha squinted at him. "But…you're so…big…You're even bigger than that other boy…"

"Yuuta?" he asked. "He's strong. I may be bigger than him, but he's very, very strong. He's a bear youkai. I would stay away from him if I were you," he warned.

"Okay," Inuyasha agreed. This boy seemed to know his way around the school. It couldn't hurt to take his advice.

"You shouldn't let your mom walk you to class anymore," he added, as though he could hear Inuyasha's thoughts.

"Huh? Why not?"

"They don't like humans here. They might hurt your mom if she comes in again."

"How come there are so many people that will hurt me or my mom?" Inuyasha pouted.

"You haven't been around many demons before, have you?" Inuyasha shook his head. The odd mouth twisted into a strange sort of smile. The boy was eyeing him with pupiless eyes, and it made Inuyasha a bit uncomfortable.

"That's okay…you wanna be friends?"

"…really?" The boy nodded. "I never had one before," Inuyasha admitted.

"Me neither."

"Well, then…o-okay. Sure," he answered uncertainly.

"Okay! You can come sit with me!" he said excitedly, leading Inuyasha to the table in the furthest corner of the room, where he obviously sat alone.

"My name's Inuyasha. What's yours?"

"I'm Jinenji."

* * *

"Mom! Mom!" Inuyasha called, jumping up from the step he'd been sharing with Jinenji after school had let out.

"Well, it looks like _some_one had a good day," the woman beamed at him, holding her arms out for a hug. Inuyasha embraced her briefly before gripping three of her fingers in his own and dragging her to the step where Jinenji still sat.

"Mom, look! I've got a friend!" he announced proudly, pointing to the other boy. Izayoi chuckled and shook her head.

"Well, hello there," she greeted the other child with a smile.

"Hi," Jinenji said shyly.

"He's a half-demon like me, Mom!" Inuyasha interjected.

"Is that so?" Internally, Izayoi congratulated herself on finally having done something beneficial for her son besides simply the basics. 'He's finally got a friend,' she thought with relief.

"Jinenji!" a voice cut sharply through the air. A slight woman came running towards them, her hand raised. "Leave him alone! He's just a boy—"

"Mom!" Jinenji whined.

"We don't want any trouble from you folks—"

"Oh, no, no, no, I think you've misread the situation," Izayoi said calmly, shaking her head. "We don't want any trouble either. You see, our sons have formed something of a friendship here, and I—"

"Friendship? Jinenji doesn't have any friends," the woman said bluntly.

"I do now, Momma!" he spoke up, pointing to Inuyasha. Izayoi smiled warmly at the other woman.

"Yes. I'm Izayoi, and this is my son, Inuyasha. He was just introducing me to his new friend here," she explained. "It's so hard for him to make friends; I was thinking that perhaps this is something worth pursuing. What do you think? Perhaps we could set up a few play dates and make this a regular thing, since the boys seem so fond of each other already," Izayoi suggested. The woman eyed her with open disdain and obvious suspicion.

"Why? Why would _your_ son want to be friends with _my_ son?" Izayoi was caught off guard.

"Well…I…I suppose they've struck upon common ground, both of them being half demons and all…but I think you'd have to ask them—"

"Half demon? _Your_ son is a _half_ demon?" she echoed incredulously.

"Yes," Izayoi said hesitantly. She and Inuyasha exchanged curious glances; why was this woman so incredibly gruff?

"Hm. Well. How very odd. He doesn't look like one," she said curtly, eyeing Inuyasha coldly.

"Well he is," Izayoi responded, just as curtly. She bristled. "I'm sorry, is there a problem?"

"No. No problem. No problem at all," she answered, snappily. She shook her head, as if to clear it out of a daze. "When did you want to set up those play dates?"

"…How about this Friday? We can meet at the park by Eto Boulevard? Around four o'clock?"

"Fine." The woman grabbed Jinenji's hand firmly and began to walk briskly away.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name?" Izayoi called after her.

"Zakuro," she said offhandedly over her shoulder. She didn't look back as she dragged her son behind her to the car.

* * *

It had gone fairly well. He and Jinenji had become fast friends. But then, he supposed it was easy to do so when they were each other's only option for companionship. Inuyasha had later on hoped that perhaps even his mother, too, could gain a friendship out of the deal; she so rarely got the chance to talk to other women her age. She rarely got to talk to _anyone _her age. She was lonely, and though he was quite young, he could see that clearly.

Jinenji's mother made it quite clear, however, that she wanted as little to do with them as possible. Outside of Jinenji and Inuyasha's play dates, she was nowhere to be seen. Even then, she seemed to make every effort and give any excuse to keep them apart as much as she could. Izayoi and Inuyasha, puzzled over her behavior, only discovered the honest truth after a horrific accident.

The odd smells of the hospital made him sneeze. There were so many scents; scents from sick people, their bodily fluids, and sterilizer. His mother held his hand tightly and kept him close as she led him through the dizzyingly white corridors, left, right, left, and right again.

"Inuyasha…now…keep in mind…Jinenji might look very different than what you're used to, Sweetheart. Okay? Try to remember that. And he might be sleeping now, so don't be too loud, alright?" Inuyasha nodded his understanding, feeling fearful now. All his mother had told him when they'd left the house was that Jinenji was very sick. She'd said nothing of his appearance. Inuyasha worried. What kind of sickness did he have if it affected his appearance?

The lump on the bed did not stir as they entered. Inuyasha covered his nose with the sleeve of his shirt, an unpleasant metallic-y scent clogging the air. 'What _is_ that?' he wondered. The scent was rancid. His mother's hand tightened uncomfortable around his own as they neared the bed.

His mouth fell open, letting loose no sound as his eyes fell upon the person in on the gurney.

That was _not_ Jinenji. It _couldn't_ be Jinenji! Even underneath the shade of his tawny skin, he was deathly pale. Odd-colored purplish-red bruises mottled his face and the bare parts of his arms. Plugs of his hair were missing, and in their absence, raw skin lay exposed. Inuyasha whimpered and hid his face in his mother's side. How had this happened?

"Izayoi!" came a harsh whisper. Their attention was redirected to the corner, where Zakuro stood from the chair where she'd apparently been napping. She threw the blanked she'd been using into the chair with force, and angrily moved toward the woman. "Hallway. Now," she demanded. Izayoi, torn between sorrow and sympathy for the beaten child on the bed and confusion with the evidently angry woman, allowed herself be dragged from the room, leaving Inuyasha by the bedside.

"Mommy?" he called after her.

"I'll be right back, Sweetheart. Stay here."

Inuyasha heeded his mother's words…for all of seven seconds. He couldn't help it. He didn't want to stay and stare at Jinenji's bruised and swollen face and smell what had to be the tang of his blood. Besides, the sharp whispers from the hallway drew him to do a bit of eavesdropping.

"I thought you'd have more sense than to bring him!" Zakuro exclaimed angrily, just as Inuyasha poked an ear out of the hospital room.

"Why _wouldn't_ I bring him? He and Jinenji are friends—"

"Your son is the worst thing to ever happen to Jinenji!" Zakuro hissed acidly. Izayoi recoiled in shock.

"How…how can you _say_ that, Zakuro? How in the seven hells can you _say_ something like that?"

"How can you not _see_ that? Can't you see? Everything has gone to _hell_ since you brought your son to that school."

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"Oh, for Kami's sake, Izayoi. Use your head," she bit out. "_Your_ son's become the ruin of _mine_."

"I don't see—"

"Of course. You wouldn't." Zakuro sighed heavily and put a hand to her temple wearily. "How do you think that _happened_ to Jinenji anyway? How do you think he ended up like that?"

"I don't—"

"He was _attacked_, Izayoi! Attacked! By a few demon children a couple of grades ahead. They were absolutely _vicious_ with him."

"Zakuro…I'm so sorry…I—"

"I don't want, nor do I need your misplaced _pity_," she spat. Izayoi's eyes flared angrily and she tensed.

"I don't see what this has to do with Inuyasha."

"You stupid woman! Are you blind to reality? One half-breed in the school is enough. But two? Everything was thrown off. Obviously two are too much to handle!" she fumed. "He's thrown everything out of order! This whole mess is your fault!"

'_My_ fault?' Inuyasha thought. 'But…I didn't want Jinenji hurt!'

"How was _I_ supposed to know that? How can you blame that on Inuyasha? He's only a child! You can't be angry at him for something beyond his control, Zakuro. Your anger is completely misplaced."

"I think it's very _rightly_ placed—"

"Try being angry with the delinquents that _beat_ him, Zakuro! Don't blame my son!" Izayoi burst out. Zakuro regarded her coldly.

"Don't you _dare_ think that you are in any position to tell me what to do. Don't _ever_ make that mistake. Not when you will never know what I'm going through."

"You think _I_ of all people don't know what you're going through?" Izayoi laughed incredulously. "Zakuro, Inuyasha is half demon as well. You honestly think I don't know where you're coming from? Please! I've had to clean Inuyasha's cuts many a time as well—"

"I have no doubt that you know what it's like to see your son hurt!" Zakuro exclaimed. "But you will _never_ know this feeling. You will never have to see your son in this bad of a condition! You're more fortunate than you know! At least your half breed was fortunate enough to be born pretty!"

The silence that took place thereafter seemed to stretch into eternity, and Inuyasha held his breath. He could feel his mother's anger.

"Do you hear yourself?" Izayoi started, her voice soft, but unmistakably infuriated. "That is your own _son_ that you just insulted. You…you should consider yourself fortunate that Jinenji is unconscious and couldn't hear what you just said." She shook her head, giving the other woman a look of cold fury. "You're his _mother_, and…and if he could depend on anyone to give him encouragement, for Kami's _sake_ it ought to be you! As if being this way isn't difficult _enough_ for them…"

"Don't dare to judge me—"

"I wouldn't waste my time on it, Zakuro," Izayoi murmured. "I pity the woman who can't see her own son as beautiful," she whispered.

"This is over, Izayoi. I don't want you or your son around us again. You only make things harder for Jinenji."

"No, Zakuro, _you_ make things hard for Jinenji," Izayoi rebutted sadly. "Come on, Inuyasha. We're leaving." She motioned for his hand without taking her glance away from Zakuro, as though she knew he'd been there all along.

Obediently, he placed his hand in hers, and they left.

He never saw Jinenji again.

* * *

Inuyasha reverently slid that portrait back into its place, his thoughts mulling over the half horse demon whose disappearance bugged him even now.

"Hey," cut a chipper voice through his thoughts. Kagome slid the warehouse door shut behind her. "Did you pick one?"

"Nah," he muttered. "None of them feel right. None of them feel important enough, you know?"

"What about the one you did of your mom? That one was really good. And important, too."

"Well…I could, but I did it a while ago, and…well, I think I've gotten better since then," he mused.

"Why don't you just paint something new?"

"I'm thinking I might have to," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. Kagome pulled a section of hair over his shoulder and began to braid it absently as he thought.

"You could always do a self-portrait," she suggested. "I don't even think you've ever done one, so it'd be something new and fresh."

"Kagome, I'm supposed to paint something _beautiful_," he responded without thinking. "Something people would _like _to look at." Kagome frowned deeply at that.

"I _know_, that's why I _suggested_ a self-portrait," she said. Inuyasha smiled down at her at her insinuation. "You're beautiful," she added softly. "I love looking at you."

Inuyasha sighed heavily and slid his arms around her waist, her hands now pressed between them, as she'd still been braiding his hair.

"How do you do that, hm?"

"Do what?"

"Turn around everything I say and make it good."

"Lots and lots of practice," she grinned up at him. "So…"

"I'm not doing a self-portrait," he said flatly. Her face fell.

"So what _are_ you gonna do?"

"I dunno…"

"Don't worry. You'll think of something," she assured him, slipping her arms around his neck. "And whatever you come up with, I'm absolutely positive that Goro Oichi and the judges will adore it," she said with complete confidence.

Inuyasha nodded slowly, his lips jerking into a small smile at the girl in his arms. He lowered his head impulsively and kissed her, sighing into her as he did so. His lips moved over hers tentatively and questioningly, as he was still learning the ropes. Kagome smiled against him and pressed harder, as she wound the small braid she'd created around her index finger. Inuyasha shivered and hugged her to him tighter, getting lost in the soft feel of her mouth and body pressed against him. A finger on the opposite hand crept up to scratch his ear, and he abruptly ceased his movements, unmoving, yet with his lips still pressed to hers.

He pulled back and gave her a curious look, cocking his head to the right as he studied her with a new type of scrutiny.

"What?" she asked, a curious half-smile played on her face.

"Nothing, I just…" He smiled reflectively. "I know exactly what I'm going to paint," he said with a touch of pride.

"What?"

"I can't tell you," he said quickly, and kissed her quickly once more. He pulled away from her embrace and set about to gathering various supplies from the drawers that housed them. "It's a surprise."

* * *

Author's Note:

Sorry if this chapter seems rushed. I had the weekend from HELL, but I still wanted to get out the chapter for you guys.

Anyway.

I've always felt sorry for Jinenji, so I wanted to give him a little attention. I felt so bad for him when his mom insinuated that she thought he was ugly. If anyone should like the way you look, it should be your mom. I wanted to put Shiori in, but…meh, it was kinda awkward in the end.

Is everyone okay with having the art competition for the next chapter? Normally I would space it out a bit, but I'm really excited for that chapter. What do you guys think?

Review!

Wowzer313


	20. Combust

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, Rumiko Takahashi does.

Author's Note:

Hope everyone's having a great Thanksgiving Weekend. I know I am. No school for me! Woot Woot!

I really like this chapter. I hope you all do too.

Enjoy!

**Chapter 20: **Combust

"I am so. Fucking. Nervous," he said in clipped words as Kagome straightened his horribly wrenched tie. She smiled and shook her head at his words.

"You're gonna be great." Inuyasha narrowed his eyes at her.

"Keh. Yeah right."

"I'm serious. You're gonna be the best one there," she emphasized. Inuyasha sighed and eyed her surreptitiously. He ran his eyes over her form as she fixed the disaster than was his tie. She was truly a vision in the satiny, mulberry colored dress that so closely hugged the contours of her body. The dress swished gently around her calves, moved like water over her stomach, and draped dramatically across the smooth expanse of her back, essentially accentuating every asset she had. Curls that looked softer than clouds hung loosely from the messily elegant bun she'd pinned her hair into. And, to his satisfaction, she wore very little makeup; only the tiniest bit of gloss on her perfectly shaped lips. He was honored to be able to say that such a woman was his date tonight.

"Did I tell you that you look incredible tonight?" he asked suddenly. She smiled up at him, nodding, smoothing the material of his tie against his chest.

"Yes, you did."

"Want me to say it again?"

"If you feel the need."

"You look incredible, Kagome," he said seriously. "Really. You look so pretty," he murmured. She couldn't help but blush at the innocent compliment. 'He can just be so _sweet_ when he wants to,' she thought.

"Well. You don't clean up too bad yourself," she told him. "You look great." He grinned self-consciously, ducking his head before his eyes popped wide.

"Oh, shit…" he began.

"What? What's wrong?"

"My ears, that's what's wrong!" he exclaimed. His hands flew to the top of his skull to cover said appendages. "_Shit_, this is gonna ruin _everything_—"

"Inuyasha, calm down," Kagome instructed placidly.

"How am I supposed to—"

"I told you I'd handle it, didn't I?" she asked calmly. "Didn't I tell you I'd have something for you?"

"Well…yeah, but—"

"Then chill out. I've got you covered," she said confidently. "I'll be right back."

Upon her return, Inuyasha cocked a skeptical eyebrow.

"A hat?" he questioned. "You want me to wear a _hat_?"

"Well, what else would you wear? A bandana? To a formal event? I think not," she laughed.

"But…"

"It's a trilby, and lots of men wear these to formal events," she explained, giving him the hat. Inuyasha stared at it uselessly. "And look—I did a pretty darn good job matching it, too!" She had. The charcoal gray pinstripes in the hat matched the hue of gray in his one and only suit almost perfectly. "Well, what are you waiting for? Put it on," she urged.

Inuyasha sighed and carelessly plopped the hat on his head.

"I feel stupid," he said bluntly. Kagome sighed and shook her head.

"That's because you're wearing it all wrong," she informed him. "You've got to tilt it to the side—wear it with some attitude." Kagome began to shift the hat and position his hair to suit her tastes. "I know you've got plenty of that," she quipped with a grin.

"Ha, ha," Inuyasha drawled, rolling his eyes.

"I don't see why you want to cover them up anyway," she thought aloud. "They're absolutely adorable. And I don't think you're going to have any trouble tonight either. Just remember that they have to stick to their own rules. And nowhere in them did it say 'no hanyous'," she reminded him as she continued to adjust him.

"Yeah, well, there's no sense in broadcasting it," he said grimly. Kagome stepped back to admire her work.

"I look ridiculous, don't I?" Inuyasha groaned. Kagome bit her lip and shook her head, a slow smile stretching her lips.

"No…no, Inuyasha…you look hot," she breathed sincerely. He blushed and turned away.

"Keh."

"No, really…a trilby suits you…oh! Wait!" she exclaimed suddenly, and rushed behind him. He felt tugging on his scalp. "Just let me braid it!" she squealed. She made quick work of the thick length of hair, leaving out his two forelocks, only catching a few kinks and a few winces from the boy in front of her. Using the elastic band around her wrist, she secured the loose end of the long ponytail. Turning him around to face her, she practically melted at the sight of him. "Oh, Kami, you look hot…" she murmured.

"Yeah?" he asked shakily, blush lighting his cheeks. Compulsively, she slid her arms around his neck and smirked.

"Yeah. So hot." He responded by resting his hands on her hips.

"You…you're—" His voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again. "You…you look pretty damn hot yourself," he said with finality. Kagome grinned at him devilishly.

"Yeah? Prove it to me," she commanded. Inuyasha happily obliged her and dipped his head to kiss her chin slowly, twice before kissing her mouth fully. "Mmm. I am _so_ ready to watch you win this thing," she whispered.

His body tensed up around her, and he bit his lip.

"What?"

"I have to _talk_ about it, Kagome. In front of _people_. Do you realize how much potential I have to screw that up? Tons."

"Do you realize how much potential you have to win this entire thing? Tons," she shot back.

"Are you two ready yet? We don't want to be late," Mrs. Higurashi called as she walked into the living room. "Oh, you two look absolutely wonderful," she cooed with a warm smile. "Kagome, for once you don't have your camera? I'm shocked."

"Oh, no, I've got it right here," she assured her mother, motioning to the camera bag on the sofa.

"Then let me take some photos of you both. Come on, scoot together. Don't act like you don't get close when I'm out of the room," she chuckled, bringing blushes from both teens.

"Way. Too. Perceptive," Kagome muttered so that only Inuyasha could hear. He nodded his agreement as they arranged themselves into what were typical prom poses.

"I wanna be in the picture too!" Souta exclaimed, bounding down the stairs in his tiny black suit. "I wanna stand next to Inuyasha!"

"Just wait a minute, Souta. Let me get Inuyasha and Kagome alone first." She snapped several photos of the couple, then of each of them alone before allowing Souta to jump in beside Inuyasha. They took several pictures like that before Kagome insisted that she get some pictures of her and Grandpa. Photos aside, they all piled into the car and were on their way.

* * *

"Can't I just have a _little_ peek?" Kagome begged.

"No."

"Please?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I said no."

"Inuyasha!"

"Kagome!" he exclaimed, imitating her. He smiled. "Are Miroku and Sango still coming?" he asked suddenly, changing the subject.

"Yeah. I think they're already here. They left way before we did," she said. "I don't see why I can't see—"

"Because it's a surprise," he said smugly, cutting her off. He kissed her cheek briefly. "You don't want to ruin the surprise, do you?"

"Yes. Yes, I do," she insisted obstinately. Inuyasha chuckled.

"Well, that's too bad. You'll just have to wait."

"Not much longer she won't. We're here," Mrs. Higurashi informed them. All three occupants of the back seat snapped their heads to the right to see the immense mansion towards which they were driving.

"Whoa," Inuyasha breathed.

"I wonder where I should park…" Mrs. Higurashi wondered aloud.

"I…I think there's a valet, Mama," Kagome told her. Sure enough, a car a ways ahead of them pulled into a large, elegant, circular cobblestone drive. A tall man and a young girl in a pink dress got out of the car, and the driver tossed a young man in a red blazer a set of keys. Mrs. Higurashi shrugged and followed suit, and joined the long line of cars in the circular drive.

Inuyasha watched the people that exited the vehicles ahead of them. Everyone he saw was dressed to the hilt in expensive tuxedoes and dresses, shining cufflinks and jewelry, strappy shoes and purses. He knew that Kagome and her family would fit right in… he just hoped he wasn't underdressed…

The car came to a stop and they all piled out, Inuyasha the last one. He carefully slid the large zippered tote that held the equally large canvas from under the back seat, and looped the strap over his shoulder. The valet boy drove the car away as he walked to join the group of people waiting for him.

"These cobblestones are definitely not working for me with these heels on," Kagome grumbled as they moved forward.

"You want me to carry you?" Inuyasha asked with a coy smirk.

"No, thank you," she said dryly. "This place is _huge_," she murmured.

"Yeah…" he said in agreement, his eyes looking up the walk at the enormous estate. Acres upon acres of land sprawled out on either side of them, the centerpiece of the property being the gigantic mansion towards which they walked. Rose bushes adorned with every color petal lined the sides of the long cobbled pathway, filling the evening air with their soft fragrance. The immense brick house loomed just before them now, lit merrily and bustling with activity as classical piano music poured through the door. Inuyasha took a deep breath as they crossed the threshold.

"Welcome to the home of Goro Oichi!" a cheerful female voice greeted them, no sooner than they had entered the vast foyer. The party looked to their right to see a young woman seated at a low table, stacks of papers and cards strewn about her. "Are you the entrant?" she asked Inuyasha.

"Oh…uh, yeah."

"Okay then. Please sign here," she instructed, pushing a sign-in sheet towards the edge of the table. "Here is your number. Remember it. The sticker goes with your painting," she told him.

"What's the number for?" Inuyasha asked as he quickly scrawled his name beside the printed version.

"You'll be called by that number when you're behind the curtains."

"Curtains?"

"Yes. It helps the judges to remain objective and unbiased when they make their decisions. This way, the only thing they're judging is the art," the girl explained, handing him a sheet of paper. 'Order of Events' it read.

"Oh…okay, thanks," he said, scanning the sheet and taking a number from the stack.

"You're welcome! Enjoy the festivities!"

"Inuyasha, this is great!" Kagome exclaimed. "See? Now you _really _don't have anything to worry about.

"There you guys are!" Sango and Miroku came rushing up to them. "We've been waiting for like thirty minutes! You took forever!" Sango scolded.

"Nice hat," Miroku grinned, tugging on the brim.

"Sarcasm isn't appreciated," Inuyasha growled, narrowing his eyes.

"It's not sarcasm! I like it, really!"

"So when does the actual competition start?" Sango jumped in excitedly.

"Um…I guess in about thirty minutes," Inuyasha said, looking at the itinerary. "Guess we were running later than we thought…"

"Would you like to tour the mansion?" a polite voice asked. "I can take you on a tour to see the entirety of Oichi Estates. We are just leaving with a group now," the young tour guide said, motioning to her little gold badge.

"Why, yes, that would be lovely," Mrs. Higurashi said graciously as the girl beamed and began to walk towards one of the vast corridors that fed from the foyer.

Somewhere amidst the numerous doors and halls and extravagant rooms and enormous libraries and twinkling gardens, Inuyasha fell to the back of the pack, his mind wandering away from the speech the tour guide was making in Goro Oichi's honor.

"And this is Mr. Oichi's illustrious Humanitarian Room," she announced proudly, as though she were somehow partially responsible for the awards the room's shelves held. "As you all probably know, aside from being one of the most prosperous and influential men in all of Central Japan, Mr. Goro Oichi is quite active in the community. He has donated generous funds to several homeless shelters, and has appeared in ads across the country emphasizing the importance of the arts in schools. For years, his contributions to the artistic community have been recognized by very prominent political figures. This is where these recognitions are housed," she prattled on and on.

Inuyasha began to worry. Again. Surreptitiously, he slipped the small stack of index cards out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket and scanned them for the umpteenth time. He bit his lip and shifted the canvas tote on his shoulder.

"The Renaissance Youth Art Competition is one of Goro Oichi ways of giving back to the community. In years past, and for years to come, this prestigious competition has helped to launch deserving youth to new heights, giving them needed education, and the connections necessary to be successful. For all those competing tonight, you should feel honored to have the chance at endorsement by such a great man!"

Inuyasha was beginning to feel sick. There was so much…pressure. 'What if I can't do this?' he wondered. 'What am I talking about? I _can't_ do this! I'm gonna lose! I'm gonna—'

"Man, that thing's big," Miroku's voice sounded suddenly by his side. "The picture. It's huge," he clarified.

"Oh…yeah…"

"How long did it take you to finish it?"

"About three weeks…Almost every day after school. All day on the weekends." Miroku whistled.

"That's a lot of time."

"I've done longer hauls. I didn't really have as much time as I wanted," Inuyasha shrugged.

"Can I see it?" Inuyasha gave him a dry look.

"If Kagome has to wait, so do you," he told him.

"Fine…" he mock-pouted, crossing his arms. "Is she in it?" Inuyasha blushed and pressed his lips together, looking away. Miroku gave him a sidelong look, a knowing smirk on his face. "She is. I knew it."

"Don't make a big deal out of it."

"I'm not. Swear." Miroku smiled and patted his shoulder in a chummy way. "You guys are good together," he said earnestly.

"Yeah?" Inuyasha asked, surprised.

"Yeah," he said seriously. "Why do you think me and Sango hooked you guys up? We could see it from the beginning," he said smugly. Inuyasha shook his head, a half smile tugging at his lips.

"Yeah, well, I might thank you later."

"You'd better thank me later," Miroku shot back good-naturedly. "Kami, is this tour ever gonna end?" he muttered after a moment or two.

"It can go on forever for all I care," Inuyasha grumbled. "Fucking nervous as hell," he explained lowly.

"Why?"

"They're gonna ask me stuff about the painting. Public speaking…it ain't exactly my strong point."

"You wanna know the best cure for that?"

"What? And don't say something stupid."

"Just imagine the whole crowd in their underwear. Works like a charm everytime," Miroku said with confidence. Inuyasha stared at him.

"That's stupid," he said bluntly. "And I'm gonna be behind a curtain anyway."

"Oh…well, then I guess that's no good…" Miroku said with dismay. "Ah, well. It probably wouldn't have worked anyway. You'd have probably been too busy imagining Kagome in her underwear to really concentrate on your speech," he snorted. Inuyasha's eyes flew wide.

"Shut up!" he hissed, hoping no one had overheard. Miroku covered his mouth with his hands, his shoulders shaking in laughter at Inuyasha's ire. "Jackass," he muttered.

"No, but seriously," he continued, his laughter ceasing as though it had never started. He gave Inuyasha a confident look, and put a hand on his shoulder once more. "You're gonna do great, man. I know it." Inuyasha was surprised yet again. He hadn't expected something so…poignant…from Miroku.

"Thanks…I hope so…"

* * *

"At this time, we would like for all of the participants to meet in the foyer for the a press picture, and the beginning of the competition," the Master of Ceremonies announced from the head end of the dining hall. Inuyasha clenched the straps of his tote tightly and stood.

"Guess that's my cue," he said aloud.

"Good luck, Dear," Mrs. Higurashi said warmly.

"You be sure to listen to the grown folk, Sonny," Kagome's grandfather warned gruffly. "They know what they're doing."

"We all know you're gonna win, Inuyasha," Sango said encouragingly.

"Mention me in your acceptance speech!" Souta interjected.

"No, he's going to mention me. Because I'm his main inspiration. His muse if you will," Miroku argued with the small boy. Inuyasha grinned self-consciously before moving away.

"Thanks," he said softly. His heart warmed as he soaked in all of the praise and encouraging words they so freely offered. Kagome grabbed the lapel of his jacket before he could get too far, pulling him down to her level.

"What, no goodbye?" she asked. He smiled and kissed her briefly, blushing when the full knowledge of what he'd just done in front of an entire room full of people hit him forcefully between the eyes. He pulled back.

"Uh…oh, okay…bye," he murmured quickly. He caught Kagome's smile before he returned it with a slow one of his own, rushing off to join the other teens that had gathered in the adjacent room.

"Attention! Attention everyone!" a man, diminutive in size, shouted from the center of the foyer, waving his hands about in an effort to gain the throng of teens' attention. He was given a bullhorn by another man who was obviously his assistant, and turned it on, causing all present to wince at the loud screeching sound the device emitted. "Ahem! Hello! I need you all to listen to my instructions so that we can get these pictures for the press and then get on with the contest!"

They were instructed to line themselves up in order from tallest to shortest. Inuyasha ended up on the end as the tallest person present. Just to his left was undoubtedly the tallest human girl he'd ever seen in his life: she stood just inches below the top of his own head. She was lanky, awkward, and looking quite uncomfortable in her ill-fitting, floor length arugula-green dress. She scratched her orange-streaked hair constantly and fidgeted even more than Inuyasha himself.

"I wish we could just get this over with," she muttered to him suddenly. Inuyasha nodded.

"Same here," he agreed.

"This is ridiculous," she continued, crossing her arms and shooting the directing man an acidic look. He was busy arranging the shortest kids at the front of the line in chairs. "I wish everyone would just forget all the pomp and circumstance and just get to the root of what this whole competition is supposed to be about." Inuyasha looked at her curiously. Why did she seem vaguely familiar? "It's supposed to be about art. But everyone's making it into a circus. A pageant," she spat bitterly, her high, nasally voice making his teeth grit together.

"Well…I guess…if you don't like dressing up," Inuyasha muttered. He had no idea what to say to her.

"I'm Aoko," she introduced. "And you are?" She finally turned to look at him, and frowned. "And you are…you were in my Lit & Comp class last year," she said suspiciously. "You were that kid…" she murmured, her eyes widening in realization. "You…I had no idea you did…art," she said uncertainly.

"Uh…yup…" Their row was moved into place so that they could be seen through the window made by the two people in the row before.

"Are you good?" she asked challengingly.

"I…I'd like to think so…" he shrugged.

"Now if you'll all remove your entries from their coverings and hold them in front of you, at relatively the same level, we can get this picture done," the director said. Inuyasha unzipped his tote, as did everyone else, and he self-consciously removed the portrait from it's cushioned space. Aoko eyed him slowly, from the top of his hat to the tips of his shoes, and Inuyasha recoiled instinctively, moving his painting out of the way, as though she were ready to claw it to shreds.

Cameras flashed at them from all angles for all of thirty seconds, and it was over.

"Now then, I need you to affix your respective numbers to your entries and give them to the assistants," he instructed.

"What're they gonna do with our paintings?" a boy shouted out the question on everyone else's minds.

"Relax, now, my boy," the grizzled man chuckled. "All of your entries will be perfectly safe. They are simply going to take them out to the stage and set them on easels so that the public can view them," he explained. "The judges, including Mr. Goro Oichi himself, are already in place. Surely we can't have you all setting up your own work. That would take away the blind judging that we are aiming for."

"How do we know they won't mess 'em up?" the same boy asked. It was obvious that he was beginning to grate on the man's nerves.

"They are all unbiased workers with absolutely no personal interest in the matter. There will be no sabotage, I assure you."

Inuyasha shrugged and handed his painting over to the small girl that came to take his work, his number securely adhered to the corner of the tote. He was just glad that he didn't have to be the one to set up the picture; he'd have been mortified.

"That's all you? You did that?" she asked, eyeing the canvas incredulously as the girl walked away with it.

"Yup…all by myself," Inuyasha muttered, leaning almost imperceptibly away from her.

"It's nice," she said loftily. She hunched her shoulders around her own picture, and practically shoved it at the boy that came to retrieve it, as though she didn't want him to see.

"Thanks."

"You'll probably be one of the front runners," she said with barely contained disdain.

She clenched her lips together and swiftly turned around, her posture stiff and rigid. Inuyasha stiffened in kind…this couldn't end well.

* * *

"At this time, we invite you all to come and view the entries. We ask that you only look, do not touch. We have a lot of very talented youth this year, and it is shown most brilliantly through these pieces," the Master of Ceremonies announced.

Mrs. Higurashi watched Kagome and the others go ahead of her, chatting amongst themselves. Grandpa sat with a group of men his own age a few tables away. She shrugged and went on to peruse the art on her own.

The canvases were set up on elegantly carved easels in a semicircle at the head of the large room, in front of a large curtained off section that was on a raised platform, obviously where the artists themselves would be seated and quizzed. As she walked slowly from canvas to canvas, she had to agree with the MC; there was an abundance of talent present. From vivid landscapes depicting the faraway rainforest to rich still life pictures, from outlandish abstract paintings to traditional fruit bowls, there was no shortage of creative energy.

She'd just finished admiring a truly impressive desert scene, saturated with vibrant colors and was moving to the next when she found herself staring suddenly at her own face.

No, not into a mirror…her profile quite unexpectedly greeted her. Mrs. Higurashi shook her head, confused. Backing up a bit, she looked at the picture as a whole, and was robbed of her very breath.

At the very end of its staggered row, it was powerful in its silent draw. More muted and understated than the other pieces that surrounded it, the portrait seemed to glow. The soft, ethereal colors beckoned all near to stare at it. Mrs. Higurashi gaped.

There were three faces set in a triangle, against a shadowy, midnight blue background, different hues of lighter blue mixing and swirling together in a graceful pattern across the cloth. One was her own, turned in profile, two fingers pressed demurely to her mouth, a soft, warm smile gracing her lips. At the apex of the triangle, her face facing the viewer straight on, was a woman who she'd never seen before, but by instinct knew just who she was. His mother, with a look of sorrow so deep and profound written in her breathtaking features that Mrs. Higurashi found herself a bit choked up. The last face, turned three-quarters to the viewer was her daughter, a radiant, effervescent smile drawing her lips upward, eyes sparkling in laughter; so much like her Kagome.

Mrs. Higurashi shook her head in disbelief, and peered closer to read the title written on the place card in front of it. '_Women of my World: A Tribute to the Greats_' it read in painstakingly neat writing. She smiled shakily and wiped a tear from her eye before it could escape and cause her makeup to run.

"He's incredible, isn't he?" Kagome asked, suddenly at her side.

"He truly is," she agreed, nodding. "A tribute to the greats…" she repeated softly.

"You touched him, Mama," Kagome said, wonder lacing her voice as well. "I guess it's his way of thanking you."

Mrs. Higurashi smiled disbelievingly, shaking her head.

She may well have touched him. But he'd touched her as well.

* * *

"Entrant Number Twenty," the judge began, clearing his throat. "Will you please tell me what your thought process was as you created… '_Me, in Flux Mode'_?"

Inuyasha raised an eyebrow at the odd title. He couldn't begin to guess what that meant. He leaned forward to peer down the row of his fellow artists at Number Twenty. The boy shrugged, though his gesture would go unseen by the judges and audience in front of the curtain.

"Well, heck, I dunno…I was watching a time-traveling movie a while ago. I guess I just got to thinking how cool it would be if I could do that too. So…yeah. That's it."

"…Okay…" the judge said. He didn't sound too pleased. "Thank you."

"Entrant Number Fourteen," another judge began. They questioned them in no particular order. Inuyasha supposed it was so that they could ensure they were all on their toes. If they were questioned randomly, there was no way any one person could be much more prepared than another. He was number eleven. He scanned his index cards one more time before tucking them back into his pocket, tuning out Number Fourteen's answer.

"Number Eleven." He was called. He snapped to attention, wringing his hands nervously in his lap. "Will you please enlighten us on what inspired you to create '_Women of my World_'?" the judge asked. Inuyasha cleared his throat and pulled the tiny microphone that was clipped to his lapel closer to his mouth.

"The inspiration for the painting came directly from the—"

"One moment please," the judge requested politely. Inuyasha felt like he'd been punched in the gut. 'Shit, don't stop me _now_! I need to get this done in one shot!' he shouted mentally. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself and fished his index cards out of his pocket once more, waiting for an immeasurable stretch of time for the delay to be over…whatever it was.

"I think you're wanted at the end," the boy in the seat to his right whispered, covering his microphone, drawing Inuyasha's attention away from his study. He leaned back in his chair to see a man beckoning him forward. Frowning his confusion, Inuyasha stood, stuffing the cards into his pocket once more, and making his way towards the end of the row, past twenty other entrants.

The stout man held his hands behind his back, a pensive, slightly angry look on his face. Inuyasha approached him uncertainly, unsure of why he'd been called.

"Sir?" he began. The man finally looked up at him, then down at the microphone on his jacket. He made a cutting motion across his throat, as in 'kill it'. Inuyasha flipped the switch on the microphone's base and waited. The man did not speak for some time. He held out his hands for the device, and Inuyasha confusedly handed it over.

"We are terribly sorry for the interruption. Please do not leave your seats, but allow a brief five minute intermission whilst we attend to some…technical difficulties," the MC implored in the background. Low chatter immediately filled the great hall—background noise.

"You're disqualified," the man stated quietly. His stumpy fingers rubbed the plastic antenna of the microphone, and he nodded, as though saying 'yes' to himself. Inuyasha jerked back.

"I'm _what_?"

"Disqualified," he repeated. "Barred, banned, out. Disqualified."

"Why?"

"Those that do not fit the criterion of the committee have no place in the competition," he said loftily.

"What? What criterion? What are you talking about?" Inuyasha questioned desperately.

"I don't have to give you an explanation. You'd do well to simply leave with a bit of grace," the man told him disdainfully.

"The hell you don't!" Inuyasha growled. He was furious. He hadn't worked that hard, hadn't invested all of that time, hadn't gotten his hopes up so high to have them dashed for no apparent reason. Not without a fight. "I followed all the rules! I'm over fourteen, under nineteen, I submitted a new, entirely original work, I stayed within the dimensions, I used only materials from the approved list, I started and finished within the time frame! What didn't I follow? What did I do wron—"

"A half-breed will _never_ win my competition," the man said darkly. His pointed mustache twitched in his ire, his beady eyes boring into Inuyasha's hatefully. "Never."

Inuyasha froze, suspended in disbelief for a few moments before his entire body deflated. His shoulders slumped, his muscles, tensed with anger and confusion, relaxed and sagged, his ears drooping under the confines of his trilby; the corners of his mouth tightened.

"You…you're disqualifying me…b-b-because of m-my…blood?" he questioned faintly.

"You've wasted your time and mine by coming here. A fruitless effort, simply put," the man said snippily. Inuyasha shut his eyes painfully, his head lowered.

"No…no, no, no! No! You can't _do_ this to me!" he exclaimed, his eyes sparking with anger once more. "You can't just _disqualify_ me! You have no right—"

"_I_ can do whatever I want!" the man roared back. "_I_ am Goro Oichi, this is _my_ competition, and I _refuse_ to allow some half-breed _trash_ to soil my name and the reputation of this good contest. I simply _won't_ allow it!"

"But…but you—! No where on the rules does it say that I can't compete! It doesn't even say—"

"It doesn't _have_ to say," Oichi hissed. "All that matters is that _I_ say. What _I_ say matters, and what _I_ say goes, and right now, _I_ say that you are disqualified, plain and simple."

Inuyasha struggled to control his labored breathing. His hands trembled in rage and hurt. He clenched his teeth together as his vision started to waver.

"I…I have just as much…right. I have j-j-just as much right as anyone u-up there. I w-worked _so_ h-hard on that painting…and I…I have _just_ as m-much t-t-talent as anyone else up there. I _deserve_ to—"

"You _deserve _nothing," Oichi seethed, his beady eyes narrowed into slits. He scoffed derisively. "Talent? You think this is about _talent_? Foolish half-breed. This is a business," he said slowly, as though he were talking to a child.

"You think I honestly give a damn about your so-called 'talent'? Psh! Here's what's real: the winner of this competition is a gold mine for me. So what? I help some kid through college and I'm a benefactor, a saint, yadda, yadda, yadda. How good does it look that some rich guy helps a poor, destitute artist through school? Helping some charity case. I'll tell you: it looks amazing. I come out looking like the good guy, the hero. So the winner has got to be someone the public can feel sorry for. Someone the public can root for in the long run. Do you honestly think _you_ fit the bill?"

Inuyasha was mute. He was paralyzed.

"You're an _eyesore_, hanyou. A nuisance. A pain, and an abhorrence. The thought of the likes of _you_ coming into my home makes me want to retch."

"I'm not—"

"When I say you will be disqualified, I mean that you will be removed from the competition. Your name will be expunged from the records, it will be taken out of any and all reports. You will be digitally removed from the press pictures. It will be as though you were never here. You think people will talk about you? Don't flatter yourself. Who would bother to waste breath on a half breed? No one, that's who. You think they will talk about your painting? Forget it. It will be like it was never here. _You_ were never here." Inuyasha's jaw muscles spasmed wildly, jumping in his cheek. Oichi snorted scathingly.

"You're just way out of place here, half-breed. As if I would sully my name by associating it with yours. Float your fancies elsewhere."

"You—you _chose_ me," Inuyasha whispered through clenched teeth. "You _chose_ me from the hundreds of other entrants. You _picked_ me—"

"And now I'm telling you to leave," Oichi cut him off abruptly. "So shut up, get your shit off of my stage, and leave my property," he ordered sneeringly.

The most pure kind of furious energy flowed through Inuyasha just then, in that one instant. He was ready to lash out; so ready to simply swing and catch the man in the jaw. He could do it. He was sure he could do it. He could put just the right amount of force behind the punch to knock him unconscious for hours on end. He could toy with him, batting him about the head with painful blows, but refraining from putting him to sleep. He could smash his face into the back of his skull with very little effort; it would be so easy.

"I could always have security come and escort you out," Oichi said offhandedly. Inuyasha battled with himself for a few horribly tense moments before all of the fight rushed out of him. He swallowed thickly around the lump in his throat, and clenched his eyes shut against the overwhelming dismay, hurt, and disappointment that flooded his system.

Straightening as much as he could, he about-faced and staggered stiffly out in front of the raised platform. He located his painting, cursed it silently, and bent to retrieve the rolled up tote from underneath the easel. With jerky, robotic movements in tiny increments of measure, he managed to shove the painting into its tote and sling it over his shoulder, his fingers gripping the handle of the bag so tightly that his knuckles turned white with the force.

Without a wayward glance in any direction, Inuyasha left the great hall, exiting as quickly as he dared in order to not cause a scene.

He wanted to hide his face.

* * *

"What number is Inuyasha, Kagome?" Sango whispered in the middle of another entrant's response to one of the judges.

"He's eleven," she responded. "I hope he's going soon."

"Me too!" Souta interjected. "This is getting boring," he complained.

"Souta, sh," his mother scolded. "Be patient. I'm sure that—"

"Number Eleven," the judge called. "Will you please enlighten us on what inspired you to create '_Women of my World_'?"

Kagome smiled as Inuyasha began his answer, his voice shaking slightly, yet strong overall. She frowned as the judge interrupted him,

"One moment, please."

"That was rude," she grumbled.

"We are terribly sorry for the interruption. Please do not leave your seats, but allow a brief five minute intermission whilst we attend to some…technical difficulties," the MC said suddenly over the microphone.

"I wonder what's wrong…" her grandfather wondered aloud.

Kagome frowned when Inuyasha appeared just at the edge of the heavy curtain and began to talk to the man she recognized as Goro Oichi. The conversation at the table fell to background noise as she watched what was apparently a heated exchange.

A cold feeling spread through her stomach when Inuyasha's entire body seemed to sag, and he bowed his head.

"Oh, no," she whispered. "Oh, no, no, no, no…" Inuyasha walked stiffly across the stage and, in slow, deliberated movements, repacked his painting, in the end seeming to shove it into the black tote. His head was bowed as he stood and looped the strap over his head, and after what seemed like a second of acquiescence, walked at a clipped pace to the exit.

"Where's he going?" Souta asked.

"We are very for that slight delay. Now, then. On with the competition!" the MC enthused.

"Number Twenty-four," a judge said. "What was _your_ inspiration behind '_Righteous Indignation_'?"

Kagome stood, grabbing her purse.

"Kagome," her mother began, putting a hand on her forearm.

"I have to go after him, Mom. I have to see what's wrong…see if he's okay…I think he…" She couldn't finish. Her mother nodded her understanding, a sympathetic light coming to her eyes.

"I'll go get the car," she said softly. Kagome nodded.

"Kagome—" Sango started. "I…should we come?" she asked hesitantly. Miroku looked just as ready to jump in and help if he could. She exchanged a glance with hermother before shaking her head, no.

"No…sorry, you guys, but probably not. I'm thinking…I'm thinking he's gonna be really mad right now…I'm sorry."

"That's fine, Kagome," Miroku told her graciously.

"You guys can go, if you want," she said regretfully. "Or stay and watch the rest of the competition. I'm so sorry about this."

"It's fine. We'll go. But…just…just tell him that we were rooting for him, okay? Tell him that he's alright with us. Remind him of that," Miroku said seriously.

"Thank you. I will," she promised. She ran after him without a second thought, a high, nasally voice resounding through the great hall as it answered its question.

* * *

She didn't know how to approach him. She didn't even know how he'd gotten so far so fast. She'd only been a few seconds after him in leaving, and already he was off of the Oichi property, straight and rigid arms braced on the railing that circled the man made lake in front of the mansion.

He glowed. The moonlight bounced off of his unusual hair, making it gleam silver in contrast with his pitch black shirt. He'd discarded his suit jacket. That, along with his hat lay in a rumpled heap a few feet away. The tote that contained the painting lay even further than that, as though he'd flung it there. He'd unbuttoned his sleeves and pushed them up past his elbows. He'd yanked the elastic band from the end of his ponytail and wound it around his wrist, his hair now free from the braid. It crinkled a bit, in a fashion unusual to its norm from being held in the tight twist, and looked wild. She shivered and steeled herself, taking a deep breath to speak.

"Leave me alone," he growled before she could get one word out.

"I—"

"Just go away." Kagome's heart leapt into her throat at his tone.

"Inuyasha…" she began. "What…what _happened_?"

"Exactly what I _thought_ would happen, Kagome," he snapped bitingly. "I got fucking _disqualified_."

"But—"

"Don't give me that _bullshit_ about the rules not excluding hanyous!" he shouted. He still refused to face her. "It's _his_ fucking competition, he can do whatever the _fuck_ he wants to do!"

Kagome swallowed thickly. He was trembling with rage, undoubtedly with disappointment and hurt. She wanted to hold him, to calm him down, to soothe him. He was so incredibly volatile, though…for once, she didn't know what to do.

"Inuyasha—"

"Will you just _fucking_ go _away_?" he shouted. Kagome jerked back in surprise. He'd _never_ been so short with her; not even in the beginning when he didn't trust her. "Just leave me alone! Dammit! I don't wanna fucking _see_ you right now!"

"You've said that before," Kagome remembered aloud. She didn't budge. He had to know she wasn't going anywhere.

"Kami…this is the dumbest thing I've ever done in my entire life…" he muttered dejectedly. Kagome shut her eyes painfully. 'How could I do this to him?' she thought in anguish.

"I…I'm sorry. I am so, _so_ sorry," she whispered, shaking her head sadly.

"What the hell are _you_ apologizing for?" he snapped.

"This whole thing…it's my fault."

"It's not your fault," he said shortly.

"Yes, it is! I entered you in this thing in the first place! You _told_ me you didn't want to do it, and didn't listen!" she exclaimed. She pushed a wayward lock of hair from her face, tears becoming a very real threat now. "And, Kami, Inuyasha…I'm so sorry…"

"Stop apologizing," he bit out.

"I _have_ to! None of this would have happened if I—"

"Shut _up_!" he shouted, finally whirling around to face her. Kagome gasped, her tears springing up full force now. The whites of his eyes were red and irritated, as though he'd been scrubbing too hard at them. Groups of his eyelashes clung together in tiny triangles… 'Oh, Inuyasha…have you been crying?' Kagome asked him in her mind. "Just shut up! You don't have to keep fucking _apologizing_! It's not your fucking fault, okay? Okay? It's not your fault! It's _my_ fault, okay?"

Kagome couldn't stop the tears that slid down her cheeks and fell onto her exposed chest. She sniffled, half from the cold and half from the situation. Inuyasha clenched his eyes shut and let out a tight breath.

"Please don't cry, Kagome," he pleaded. "C'mon…don't go and do all that." She ducked her head and quickly stepped closer to him, not hesitating to wrap her arms around his hard middle and bury her face into his firm chest.

"I…I don't understand how you can't blame me…" she whimpered. "If I hadn't entered you, none of this would have happened…" He cuddled her to him, his arms circling her shoulders and pulling her close. He leaned his chin atop her head.

"You didn't make me do anything I didn't want to do, Kagome," he sighed heavily, his chest moving her head with its expansion. "I could have just as easily _not_ done a second piece and just left the letter alone. I wouldn't have gone for the second round if I didn't really want to," he explained. "I'm the hanyou. I should have known better."

"It's so unfair," she protested. "You are just as good—no! Better! You're better than anyone in there, and you deserve—"

"Nothing," he said hollowly. "I deserve nothing."

"Don't say things like that!" she rebuked sharply, looking up at him. "I don't ever want to hear anything like that ever again!"

"It's the truth, Kagome. You can't…you can't keep _dodging_ the truth…and neither can I…" He sighed. "I sometimes let myself do that with you…you make it so easy to lie to myself…but I can't keep _doing_ that…it doesn't get me anywhere."

"And saying things like that does?" she retorted. "Does saying things like _that_ get you anywhere, Inuyasha?" She gripped his shirt front and shook him a bit in a futile attempt to get him out of whatever melancholy trance he was falling into.

"I just…" he continued, as though she'd said nothing. "I just was hoping that…maybe…maybe one thing would go _right_," he murmured, clenching his eyes shut. "The only thing that ever went _right_ for me was you. Everything else…it always goes wrong. Nothing ever changes," he whispered.

"Inuyasha…"

"I'm gonna go home tonight…and my dad is gonna…" He swallowed thickly and kept on, a sick sort of smile on his face. "My dad is gonna beat the shit out of me…for being out. And I'm gonna…sit in my room…and wait for morning like I always do." He shook his head and laughed darkly. "It just the same shit over and over, day after day, shit going wrong, more shit going wrong—"

"Inuyasha, stop," Kagome sobbed. She pressed her face to his chest. She kissed the 'v' of flesh that showed through the top two open buttons, between the two sections of his undone tie. "Please, stop."

"I…I-I…I'm sorry," he murmured, shaking his head. He kissed her crown, and turned his head so that he could nuzzle his cheek into the softness of her hair. "I'm sorry, I'm just…tired."

"Then we can sleep. When you come home with me," she beseeched, withdrawing from his embrace a bit to look at him. It was true. He looked absolutely drained. Not only physically but mentally. She had no doubt emotionally as well. The telltale dark circles that seemed to have appeared out of nowhere beneath his eyes gave him away. She noticed his hesitation. "What's wrong?"

"Everyone saw," he whispered. "Everyone saw me get kicked out…Probably…probably your mom doesn't want me to…"

"Inuyasha, of course she does," Kagome reassured him. "She's waiting for us at the car." He hesitated still.

"Sango and Miroku…they saw. Are they…out there?"

"No. They left."

"They shouldn't have come."

"They wanted me to tell you that they were rooting for you," she said, ignoring his comment. "They wanted you to know that you're alright with them." Inuyasha said nothing to this, but just stared out at the water.

"I kind of…I kind of don't want to talk anymore," he admitted quietly. "I don't want anymore words."

"Then there won't be any," Kagome agreed. She retrieved his jacket, hat and picture, and handed all three to him. He slung the jacket and tote over his shoulder and carelessly jammed the hat on the back of his head.

Gripping hands tightly, they walked to meet the others at the car.

* * *

Inuyasha's eyes snapped open. He craned his neck to peek at the clock. '2:43' it read. With a heavy sigh, he began the tedious task of extricating himself from Kagome's grip. He wriggled and shimmied until he could slip his arm from around her torso, into which she laid burrowed warm and close to him. He gave a weak, fond smile at the sleeping girl, still in her dress, as her head lolled against his bicep, her full lips falling open. He sneakily stole a kiss, quickly pecking her bottom lip. Gazing at her for a few moments in the darkened interior of her room, in the soft, warm confines of her small bed, wrapped in her arms, and her wrapped in his, he felt his glaring disappointment and hurt wan. He carefully laid her head against the pillow, brushing a few wisps of hair away from her peaceful face. Once out of the bed, he leaned down and tenderly kissed her forehead, and bid her goodbye, only for a few moments.

Not bothering to take his shoes, he stole out of her room and padded down the hallway, down the stairs, through the kitchen and across the foyer to his goal. The front door. He silently slid the lock open and slipped out into the silent stillness of the night, pulling the door shut behind him.

Once outside, he allowed himself to break. Almost immediately, as if they'd been waiting for him to be alone to sneak in their attack, the tears stabbed at his eyes. The overwhelming defeat and sense of failure that had hovered over him since Oichi dismissed him crashed over him with torrential force, and he almost collapsed from it. He had no more anger, no more fury, no more wrath. He staggered over to a bench on the far edge of the courtyard and slumped down onto it.

Resting his elbows on his knees and hiding his face in the shadow created by his own body, he allowed hot tears of disappointment and failure to course down his face and land on the now rumpled suit pants he still wore, bleeding them into an even darker gray. He sniffed occasionally, biting his lip to ensure that no unnecessary sound escaped him; he was embarrassed enough that he was crying, even if there was no one to see.

He had known this was coming, this catharsis. He'd known as soon as security had 'escorted' him from the premises. It had come as soon as he was alone. The salty drops had welled fully in his eyes, and had he not caught Kagome's scent approaching, they would have fallen. He thanked every Kami he could name that he'd had time to roughly scrub his eyes dry before she could see. He never would have lived _that_ down.

They'd almost come again when _she'd_ started to cry; he'd almost lost it, and it was only by a small thread that he was able to hold his composure and keep himself together. He made himself a small promise that at the first opportunity, he'd let them come. He knew he couldn't hold it in forever. Not _this_ time.

He hadn't fully realized just how high his hopes had been until the opportunity to have them realized was snatched away. Left in their wake was a deep, gaping void of unfulfilled desires and dreams he'd only recently admitted to himself that he had. He hadn't known that he could cry over something like this before; now he knew.

Perhaps it was just the fact that this letdown had been dealt just after a beating. Perhaps it was because it happened in front of hundreds of people. Perhaps it was because it had happened in front of Kagome, and above all, he wanted to impress _her._ Or perhaps it was simply because in his heart of hearts, he'd harbored a fervent hope to win…whatever the reason, in the aftermath of the debilitating blow, Inuyasha found that the tears did not cease when he thought they should. They only increased double fold, and he found it difficult to keep completely silent.

"Oh, Sweetheart," came a sweet, sympathetic voice. Inuyasha's head snapped up, and he immediately pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes.

"Ah, shit…" he mumbled, recognizing at the last second that he'd used profanity in front of Kagome's mother. "Don't tell Kagome," he blurted. The woman looked confused. He gestured awkwardly to his face. "The tears…don't, you know, tell her…it's embarrassing enough…"

"Of course I won't."

"Thanks," he grumbled. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"For cursing…and…I didn't mean to wake you. I thought I was quiet."

"Oh, you were. But you didn't wake me. I was already up. You passed right by me on your way through the kitchen," she explained. She held out a deep mug full of hot cocoa to him, taking a sip out of one herself. "Here you go."

"Not really in the mood for anything," he muttered.

"That's okay. I had already had some made up for myself. I just figured I'd bring you a mug. May I?" she asked, motioning to the length of space next to him.

"It's your house," he shrugged, looking away.

"Well, I know that, Sweetie. But you may have wanted some time alone. I was wondering if you'd like some company?" Again, he shrugged.

"Sure." Mrs. Higurashi seated herself beside him, cupping her mug between both hands and hunching her shoulders, the collar of her mint-green fleece robe bunching up to her ears.

"You know you don't have to," she began softly. "But if you'd like to talk…I'm free to listen," she offered. Inuyasha picked up the mug, warming his hands with the heated ceramic. 'Yeah, right,' he thought.

He was quiet for exactly three-hundred and seventy eight seconds. Mrs. Higurashi was just too convenient and willing to listen for him to pass up.

"I really thought I had a chance," he started, his voice barely audible. "To win, I mean," he clarified. "I…it didn't have to be first…but…I thought I'd at least place, you know? It…it was going so good—nobody knew what I was for all that time…I thought I was getting away with it."

He knew the exact moment when he'd been found out. When that girl, Aoko, had recognized him from Mr. Akuran's class the previous year. He knew then that _she_ knew. For some reason, he hadn't thought that she would…but then, he supposed she had no reason _not_ to. He was her competition, and if she had any dirt on him to get him disqualified, then surely she'd use it.

"I just really wanted to get that damn scholarship…" he whispered fiercely, another tear slipping down his cheek. Mrs. Higurashi surprised him by gently brushing the drop away with the knuckle of her index finger. He glanced sadly at her, grateful to her for so much in that one instant.

"I thought maybe…I could show it to my brother and my dad. Thought…I thought it might make them proud of me, you know? And…and you know the stupid thing?" He gave a short laugh through his tears. "I actually…actually started thinking of myself as a college boy. Thinking maybe I could go to school and get smarter…then they wouldn't think of me as such a damned failure…" he whispered, his voice dropping off until Mrs. Higurashi could barely hear him. "I wanted…Kagome to be proud…she was so sure I'd win."

"Kagome _is_ proud of you, Honey," Mrs. Higurashi insisted, speaking for the first time during the course of his monologue. She placed a soothing hand on his back gently, hoping he wouldn't pull away from comfort. "She's so very proud of you. And so am I. And so is Souta and Grandpa…we're all proud of you. You did a very brave thing tonight, Sweetheart. Showcasing something that important to you couldn't have been easy—"

"And that just makes it that much worse," he interrupted. He shook his head. "I spent so much damned _time_ on that stupid thing—"

"_That's_ where you've got to stop, Sweetheart," Mrs. Higurashi cut in. She set her cocoa mug down and lightly grasped his chin between her thumb and index knuckle, turning his head to face her, much like her daughter had so many times before. He gaped at her, surprised. "Listen to me, Inuyasha. You are one of the strongest young men that I know. And in order to _keep _that strength, you can_not_ let these people get into your head."

"That painting was breathtaking. You have a true gift. Don't you ever let _anyone_ tell you otherwise. Don't let anyone make you think that what you do is stupid. It's not. You be confident in your talent. You keep that strength in here," she instructed, tapping his forehead lightly, "and in here." She tapped his chest, just above his heart. She smiled fondly at him. "Everything happens for a reason, Sweetie. Just remember that when one door closes, another one opens. You've just got to keep pressing."

Author's Note:

Oh, man, please don't kill me!!! Just review…heh heh…I assure you, I'm not done with our little artist just yet. I've still got more in store for him.

HOLY-CANOLY!!!!! 52 pages?!? FIFTY-TWO PAGES?!?!? Oh, that definitely deserves some reviews…please? Heh heh.

Just think: Inuyasha in a trilby hat? Too cute!

Cry! Vent! Rant! Do whatever! But above all, review! It's okay, I can handle it…I think.

Wowzer313


	21. Pressing

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, Rumiko Takahashi does.

Author's Notes:

YAY! Best Drama 1st place, Best IYKG Romance 3rd place! WOOT WOOT! Too cool.

Thanks to everyone who voted, nominated, or seconded for me—it means a lot!

Happier chapter? Hmmm—maybe!

Enjoy!

* * *

**Chapter 21:** Pressing

"…For our final story, Daisuke, be ready to show that Lion pride! We have a scholarship recipient amongst us! Aoko Yamaguchi, a senior this year, is the recipient of the illustrious Goro Oichi Scholarship! She competed in the famed Renaissance Youth Art Competition this weekend, and was awarded first place for her piece _'Righteous Indignation'_. To top it all off, Aoko has been awarded with a full scholarship to attend Tokyo University next fall! We are fortunate enough to have Aoko with us in the studio to day to fill us in on the details of her victory. Tell us, Aoko: what types of things were running through your mind when your name was called for first place? What inspired you? You've got the floor."

"Well, Akira, it was absolutely _mind-blowing_. I swear, I couldn't even speak when they said my name; it was the most incredible feeling you can imagine. I'd worked so hard to create a piece that I felt would be worthy of Mr. Oichi's scholarship. I was so surprised when I heard my name! It was truly exciting to…"

Inuyasha's fist clenched angrily at the morning announcements. 'That bitch,' he thought murderously.

"…The competition was so stiff, too! But I think that I really earned my place. It was truly an honor to be recognized by such an accomplished man," Aoko gushed, quite atypical of her normal scornful attitude.

"That's wonderful, Aoko. Thank you so much for speaking with me today."

"You're very welcome, Akira. It was my pleasure."

"As you all know, there is a college and scholarship fair going on in the gymnasium. In addition to that, we have a special treat. Not only will Aoko's winning piece _Righteous Indignation_ will be on display, as well as some of her other works, but _Goro Oichi himself_ will be in the gymnasium to answer questions about the other scholarships that he sponsors. Seniors, we invite you to survey your options for the future, take advantage of the opportunity to pick a multi-millionaire's brain, and to take a peek at award-winning art. That's all for our announcements today. Have a great day, Daisuke!"

The bell rang for dismissal. Inuyasha, the last one out of the classroom, hesitated at the doorway. Usually, he would meet Kagome at their lunch table or in the library.

He turned in the opposite direction of the lunchroom. There was no sense in taking Kagome with him. She'd only try to talk him out of it.

* * *

Inuyasha allowed his eyes to flick passively over the mounds of brightly colored brochures that were heaped on the folding tables. The names, some well-known, some shrouded in obscurity, jumped out at him from their place cards. _Chiba University, Fujita Health University, Hiroshima Institute of Technology…Tokyo University_. The mill of students around him buzzed excitedly, discussions of bright futures took place on all sides. College recruiters talked animatedly, emphasizing the glorious aspects of their respective schools as students soaked up the information like sponges.

"Fujita Health University is one of the premier colleges in Japan for health studies. I'm sure you'd be very happy here."

"Hiroshima Institute of Technology offers only the best for its students. We rank very high in terms of student happiness."

"Tokyo University is without a doubt one of the most prestigious universities in all of Japan. Our reputation precedes us, and it is common knowledge that a graduate from _our_ school is a graduate that will be well-paid."

He sighed wistfully, if not a bit sadly, looking away from the few students that sent scornful, snide glances his way. 'You have nothing to worry about. I'm no competition,' he told them in his mind.

He was suddenly reminded of the daydreams he'd had—before the competition had been ripped away from him. He'd seen himself in college, away from his father and brother, away from all the bad things he'd experienced. He'd seen himself and Kagome walking around campus, hand in hand perhaps. Happy. Carefree.

'So much for that bullshit,' he thought sourly, shaking his head to rid it of ridiculous, unattainable thoughts. Annoyed, he growled loudly at one particularly snobbish looking boy, a sophomore perhaps, and bared his fangs. The boy jumped, startled and taken aback, and quickly scuttled away.

Inuyasha shook his head, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets as he made his way through the gymnasium. Despite the densely packed area, there was no need for him to say 'excuse me' or 'pardon'…not that he would have anyway. But students automatically moved out of his way, parting like the tide from the shore, shooting poisonous glares in his direction, whispering as though he couldn't hear.

"What's _he_ doing here?"

"How dare he think he can just show his face anywhere he wants?"

"Disgusting."

"Filthy."

"Freak."

He glowered, his face darkening as he sidestepped around a table. 'I can _hear_ you, you fucking idiots,' he growled menacingly in his head. Most of the time, he could do a fairly decent job of ignoring the comments, the barbs, the insults. But today, every single little word, every sideways leer, every pointless threat worked its way under his skin and chipped away at his thin patience. He'd been raging all day, ever since that night at Kagome's house. His moods were swinging, back and forth. He slipped in and out of moods of deep melancholy and absolutely consuming fury. The constant switch that he was helpless to stem was taking a toll on him, and the temper that he could feel building was just barely bridled within him.

He'd even let it slip a few nights ago.

* * *

"Where the fuck have you been?" his father demanded. He'd just slipped into his room's window after staying the previous night and most of that morning with Kagome and her family. Changing his clothes quickly and jogging down the stairs, he'd rushed to make his father's breakfast, knowing that he was late in doing so, and that the older man would be pissed.

"I've been upstairs," he lied quietly.

"You're fucking full of _shit_," his father hissed. "I'm gonna ask you again. Where the _hell_ have you _been_?"

"Up_stairs_," he repeated through clenched teeth. He didn't turn around to face the man; he simply went about preparing a meager meal for the insatiable demon to devour, undoubtedly without leaving him a scrap. Normally, he was expected to turn around and address his father head on, not ignore him and deny him the respect he thought he deserved. He heard and felt the raucous growl that ripped from the man's throat.

"Just who the fuck do you think you are, half-breed? Huh? Who the _hell _do you think you are, answering me like that?" Taishou sneered. He reached forward and yanked Inuyasha's ponytail hard, causing the boy to yelp. Inuyasha set the utensils he'd been using onto the counter, his hands slowly curling into tight fists. "You think you're grown? You think you can just disrespect me? I'll show you a thing or two—"

Inuyasha whirled around and, using the blade of his forearm, knocked his father's arm away from him just as it was surging towards his face. The older demon was so shocked that he didn't immediately move to make a second blow. He only stood, mouth agape, eyes staring at the huffing teen in front of him. His shock lasted seconds before his face split into an angry mask.

"What the _fuck_ is _wrong_ with you?" he bellowed. His hand shot out quicker than Inuyasha's eyes could register and caught the collar of his shirt, jerking him forward. He sent a dizzying blow across the boy's left jaw, sending his head spinning. "Huh? What is wrong with you? Are you out of your mind? Have you forgotten your place?"

Inuyasha spit out the blood that had quickly coated the interior of his mouth, his eyes blazing with fury. He painfully turned his head to face the man, his blood boiling, his skin turning hot.

"I _know_ my place!" he shouted, frothy blood flying from his lips. "I know it better than I know my own _fucking_ name!"

Taishou's eyes flew wide with surprise and incredulous fury. He gave the boy a hard shake, his collar still gripped in his fist tightly.

"How _dare _you use that language with _me_? Hm? You got a death wish?"

"Only for you," Inuyasha muttered darkly, unsure if he'd truly intended for the man to hear. Either way, he did.

"You've gone crazy. That's the only explanation for this…this…madness! You've gone absolutely fucking _crazy,_ you little shit! I swear to you, I'll knock the crazy right out of you!"

Before he could land his punch, Inuyasha ducked out of the way, ripping his shirt out of the man's grip with some effort. He staggered backwards, still dizzy from the jab to the jaw, and steadied himself on a chair. Taishou advanced on him, fists balled and ready. Inuyasha gripped the chair tighter in his hand, and just as the man was close enough, he shoved the furniture at him with all of his might, managing to trip him up a bit.

Inuyasha took the small chance and bolted up the stairs. Taishou, however, being much faster and stronger and not to be held up too much by a mere chair was right on his heels. In a split second of pure panic, Inuyasha ducked into his room, and just as the man was entering after him, he flung the door shut, slamming it as hard as he could manage. Some part of him derived a small pleasure out of hearing the dull _thud_ of wood against flesh, and his father's subsequent string of curses.

"Just go away!" he screamed. "Just leave me the hell alone! My entire weekend's been fucked up enough! I don't need you pounding me!" came his panicked cries.

* * *

Of course, his father hadn't left him alone. He'd given Inuyasha the punishment he'd intended to give, perhaps with even a few extra slaps for his unexpected insubordination. Inuyasha smiled grimly. He may have been left with numerous injuries, but he'd never forget that it was the first time he'd been able to make his father bleed in return. That door had connected quite soundly with the older demon's nose.

He hadn't surprised himself too much. Not this time. He was fed up. Fed up with everything. As soon as the man had come to him, ready for a fight, ready to pummel him after he'd already been pummeled by a deep blow to the pride, Inuyasha had caught a spark. The consuming wrath that shot through him had fueled him enough and given him enough recklessness to at least attempt to strike his father back.

'What a difference public humiliation can make,' he thought dryly. A streak of obscenely bright red caught his eye, and he knew he'd found his target. He turned to the gaudy, obtrusive painting that glaringly stood out against the pale paint of the gym walls. He could have picked up any newspaper and seen it, and avoided this real-life meeting. But he couldn't bear to do that. If he did, he would most assuredly be thrown into another deep bout of depression at the sight of his empty space on the far end of the picture. He didn't want to see where he'd been edited away.

He approached the award-winning painting with slow, measured steps, his eyes narrowing in scrutiny. It was flanked by four of her other pieces. The angst-laden, bitter names sounded contrived and overdone: _Girl: Abandoned, The Isolation of Me, Saving Me from Myself, I'm My Own Regret. _All were portraits of herself, desolately staring into some unknown space, in different poses and outfits. He frowned in distaste. He stood in front of the canvas she'd won for, arms crossed, his mouth set in a straight line.

"Don't do anything stupid."

"Stupid like what?" he queried coolly, immediately recognizing the nasally voice that so relentlessly grated on his nerves.

"Stupid like clawing my pieces to shreds." Inuyasha snorted derisively.

"I wouldn't think of it," he said evenly. He could feel Aoko exhale with relief. "Unlike you I don't play dirty," he added, satisfied when she flinched. "You're a real piece of work, you know that?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked, automatically defensive.

"Exactly what I said. You're a fucking piece of work," he snapped. She didn't respond. She only stood silently beside him, examining the picture as though she'd never seen it before. "A self-portrait. How very fitting."

"Were you expecting something else?"

"I was expecting decent work. But, hey, I guess it really doesn't matter. Because Goro Oichi only cares about the _publicity_ he's going to get from sponsoring you. He doesn't give a _shit_ whether you're actually _good_ or not."

"You don't have to insult me—"

"I'm _not _insulting you. I'm telling it like it is."

"Well. Don't be so jealous, Inuyasha."

"You fucking underhanded _bitch_!" he hissed. "You _cheated_!"

"No," Aoko said in a cold voice. "No, I did _not_ cheat. Not in the least."

"You ratted."

"I did what I had to do to get where I need to be. And now, I have what I want."

"You took everything away from me!" he hissed, whirling to face her. "Do you realize that?"

"You would have beat me!" she blurted, her face splitting. "There. I said it. You would have beat me."

"…what?"

"You're good, Inuyasha. _Really_ good. It would not have surprised me if you beat every participant there. That portrait was that incredible," she said earnestly. Inuyasha's eyes narrowed at her, wondering what game she was playing at. She stepped closer, her eyes flitting around the busy gymnasium before locking with his. "But I'll be damned if I let some pitiful _half-breed_ beat me at what I'm good at."

"You're not good," he said bluntly. "You paint like shit." Aoko looked horribly wounded for a second, and Inuyasha took a sick pleasure in hurting her with his words. It happened so rarely—that he got the chance to inflict the pain. He was surprised when she smirked.

"Who's got the money, huh? Me or you?" she whispered. "I think we both know who came out on top." She smirked and gave him a hard look to which he growled. "I've got no problem with playing dirty. Just so long as I end up the winner."

Inuyasha's growl increased in volume exponentially, and it took all of what little patience he had not to snatch the canvas off of its easel and smash it over her black and orange head.

"I swear, I'll—"

"Is there a problem here, Ms. Yamaguchi?" a smooth voice questioned. Inuyasha closed his eyes and immediately closed his mouth as well. "Is there a problem? Half-breed?"

"No, Mr. Oichi. There's no problem. Inuyasha was just…admiring my work. He was just saying how I deserved to win and congratulating me," Aoko lied easily. Oichi smiled his condescending approval at Inuyasha, who returned the look with a blank stare.

"Well, as long as there's nothing but encouraging words being exchanged—"

"It sucks," Inuyasha interrupted abruptly. "_She_ sucks. Your entire _competition_ sucks, and it's rigged, and it's unfair."

"Well. Someone seems a bit jealous," Oichi smirked haughtily.

"Jealous," Inuyasha snorted. "Yeah, right. If _that's_ the kind of bullshit you award money for—completely fake _garbage _from some spoiled princess who's never had any hardship in her life but likes to pretend as though she does—then I don't want to be a part of it anyway!" he lied. He wasn't sure if Oichi and Aoko could see through his farce. He prayed that they couldn't see just how badly he actually _did_ envy her. That would completely rob him of his credibility.

"Hey, you don't know _what_ I've been through!" Aoko shot back angrily.

"And you don't know what _I've_ been through. I guarantee you that you haven't come close to the hell I live in. You stick some red paint on a canvas and try to pass it off as suffering with a bullshit title. I can see right through you," he spat acidly.

"That is quite enough," Oichi said in a voiced that allowed no room for argument. He turned to Inuyasha, his tiny mustache twitching with every move that his upper lip made. "I think you should go now."

Inuyasha had every desire to do just that. He wanted nothing more in that instant than to just bolt out of there and find Kagome. But the mere fact that he'd been _told_ to get out rather than leaving of his own accord made him stop and defy.

"This is my school. I have every right to be here. Just as much right as anyone here," he said defiantly, if not a bit shakily. Oichi gave him a smug look.

"You think you have rights. Foolish half-breed. I've told you before, and I'll tell you again. You'd do well to leave with a bit of grace, lest you shame yourself any more by staying."

"_I_ have a right to—"

"You think you have more rights than I, simply because you are a _student_ here?" Oichi scoffed and snorted. "Naïve, foolish half-breed. I think you are truly unaware of just who I am. I am Goro Oichi, one of _the_ most powerful men in this entire country. I own thousands of acres of land that the likes of you would never even _dream_ of seeing. And you think that _you_ have clout over _me_ simply because you _go_ here? Hm. Don't make me laugh."

"Now do what you're told, like a dog should, and leave. Or should I arrange more escorts for you?"

Inuyasha bit the inside of his cheek. They'd drawn a crowd by now. After all, who didn't want to see the useless, stupid, hindrance of a half-breed get chewed out by a business mogul? His face heated as he saw the fascinated expressions of his peers out of his peripheral vision. Ducking his head, he straightened his backpack on his shoulder and pushed through the throng of nosy teenagers to the exit.

* * *

"You should have _seen_ it, Kagome," Inuyasha groused. "It was the biggest mess of paint I've ever seen. A complete _waste_."

"Really?"

"Yeah," he said sulkily, turning onto his back on her bed. She gave him a sympathetic look from where she sat at her desk across the room. Inuyasha frowned deeply. Honestly, he wasn't quite sure whether her painting was _truly_ hideous. He had to admit to himself that at the moment, he wasn't quite able to judge it objectively. He was able to admit that it was quite possible his critical eye was clouded because, well…_he'd_ wanted to win.

Kagome watched Inuyasha begin to stew, his dark brows drawing down and together, his lips pursing. She hated seeing him like that: angry and irritated. He'd been incredibly touchy ever since the night of the competition, his patience for almost anything running quite short. It was all she could do to simply watch and try to placate him, knowing that nothing she said would truly ease the frustration he was feeling.

She stood, leaving her history homework in favor of the grumbling, attractive boy stretched out on her bed. She sat on the edge of the mattress, right beside his waist.

"Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?" she asked softly. He frowned and crossed his arms over his chest, managing to look even _more_ like a pouting child.

"No," he said briefly. Kagome smirked and placed a hand on his stomach gently, hoping she didn't inadvertently hit any bruises or scars. His eyes popped wide from their narrowed position and glanced at her hand before looking up at her. She smiled and leaned down to kiss him.

"You sure?" she whispered against his mouth.

"Well. Maybe you could do that," he amended. She grinned and leaned on her forearms, each on either side of his head and leisurely kissed him. Inuyasha groaned into her and his hands groped for her waist. He returned the affection deeply, their lips moving sensually together in a now well-practiced rhythm. With a sudden heave, Inuyasha lifted the girl up and moved her so that she precariously straddled his middle. With a squeak, she pulled away and held her lower half over him.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't hurt me," he said breathlessly, shaking his head.

"You're not bruised at all?" she asked cautiously.

"It's no big deal. I'll be fine," he insisted, and slipped a hand around the back of her neck, pulling her down to his mouth again. "Now get back down here," he joked huskily against her lips.

"Well, look at you, getting all bossy," she giggled, obliging him with little resistance.

"You do that to me," he whispered. Surprising her, he kissed her cheekbones, trailing light kisses across each side of her face to her temples. Taking his dear sweet time, he made his way down the column of her neck, tracing the line of the prominent vein with his lips. He even laved her collarbones with attention, the slight moisture of his lips making her shiver when exposed to the cool air. The tips of his ears brushed her cheeks, and, needing to reciprocate the affection he was showing, she turned her head slightly to kiss the triangles, smiling against the fluffy surface when his next inhalation came ragged to his lungs. She kissed the outer shell of each ear before cupping chin in her hands and dragging his face back up to her so that she could attend to his lips again.

His hands slid across her thighs, smooth as silk and cool to the touch. Perhaps it was because she'd done a mad dash outside of the shrine to get her forgotten camera out of her car without bothering to put on proper pants…not that it bothered Inuyasha. No, no, he was perfectly content to watch her prance around the house in the tiny little 'lounge' shorts. If it was fine by her, it was fine by him. He'd simply enjoy the view…and the feel. The tips of his claws inadvertently dragged across her skin, and she gave a hard shudder. He paused for a moment, fearing that he'd hurt her, or at least freaked her out. Not so. The girl continued her attentions, ignoring the fact that for a moment, he'd stopped. 'This girl is too good to be true,' he thought absently as he picked up his pace once more.

"Hey, Inuya—_Whoa!_"

It took less than half of a hot nanosecond for the two impassioned teenagers fly apart from each other, Kagome swinging her leg from over Inuyasha and pressing her back against the wall. Inuyasha shoved himself away from her, and ended up a messy heap on the floor. Both looked at the child, guilt written over each deeply blushing face.

"_Eeee-www! _Mo-om! Kagome and Inuyasha are _kiss_-ing!" Souta exclaimed rather loudly, his nose wrinkling in distaste. "On the _bed_!" he added. The couple's eyes popped widened to a comical width and Kagome moved to leap from the bed. Her legs however, tangled in the lumpy blankets, and she landed on Inuyasha's lap.

"That's so _gross_! Inuyasha, don't you know that girls have _cooties_? You could get the—"

"Souta, shut _up!_" Kagome hissed from her ungraceful position on the floor, astride her boyfriend.

"I'm telling _Mom_!"

"For fuck's _sake_, kid! Shut your trap!" Inuyasha interjected. Kagome finally managed to detangle herself from the binding sheets and ran to grab the boy and clap a hand over his mouth before he could make it out of the door.

"Mmmphf!" he protested.

"Souta, listen. You can't just go blabbing to Mom, okay?" Kagome said quietly in his ear. "Now I'm going to let you go, but you have to promise that you'll be quiet, okay?" He nodded. "Okay." Kagome slowly lifted her hand away from the boy's face.

"Chocolate," he said immediately.

"Huh?"

"I want chocolate," he answered simply. Kagome scoffed.

"Oh, please! You are _not_ blackmailing me." Souta raised one eyebrow and then shrugged. He took a deep breath.

"_Mo—ack!_" Kagome clapped a hand over his mouth once more.

"Okay, okay!" she hissed angrily. Souta frowned and gave her a look that clearly said, 'Let me go.' Kagome released him. "Fine. I'll give you some damn chocolate. Stinkin' brat," she muttered. Souta grinned at his prize, then turned to Inuyasha, still on the floor.

"And from you…I want you to play video games with me. For…for two whole hours!" he exclaimed as though he'd just come up with an insidious plot.

"O-okay…" Inuyasha agreed slowly.

"Why did you come _up_ here anyway," Kagome groused, crossing her arms. Souta seemed to immediately forget his blackmailing and straightened.

"There's some old guy downstairs to see Inuyasha," he said with a shrug.

"To see _me_? At your house? Why?"

"I dunno. Mom told me to come get you. Although…maybe if you guys hadn't been doing _kissy-face_ you probably would have heard her calling you," he added mischievously. The two blushed once more. Souta giggled at their ire and wrapped his arms around himself, suddenly puckering up at the air. "_Ooohh, Inuyasha!_" he squealed, making his voice high-pitched and screechy in his attempt at imitating Kagome. "_Ooohh, Kagome!_" he said, lowering his voice to imitate Inuyasha. He repeated his farce. Over an over and over.

"_O_kay, that's enough of that!" Kagome exclaimed, and promptly pushed him out of her room as he continued to mock them. "We'll be down in a minute." She shut the door and leaned against it with a sigh.

"Next time we do that…remind me to lock the door."

"Will do."

The old man genteelly drank his tea in languorously slow sips, setting the tiny cup down on its matching saucer after every one.

"You have a lovely home, Mrs. Higurashi," he said absently.

"Why, thank you," she responded with a smile. "I don't know what's taking them so long, they should be—"

"Well, _I_ don't know what he's here for! You've just got to wait and see!" Kagome's voice came.

"Why would he be trying to get to me at _your_ house, huh? It makes no sen—"

"Ah, here they are," Mrs. Higurashi said. "Come on, you two. Sit, sit," she commanded, pulling out chairs for the both of them. Inuyasha slid into his seat, regarding the squat man with a cautious eye as the old man did the same in return.

"There's no need for the cap, boy," the man said in a roughened voice, motioning to the black beanie that Inuyasha had tugged on before leaving Kagome's room. "I already know what you are." Inuyasha blanched and shot a look at Kagome, only to find that she looked just as clueless as he. He frowned at the man, suddenly ten times more suspicious than he'd been before. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go on and take it off. I want to see them," he urged. Inuyasha's frown deepened into a glare.

"And just who are _you_ to tell me what to do?" he snapped irritably. He was _not_ about to be ridiculed in the one place where he found solace.

"Oh, excuse me. I suppose that was rather rude of me," the man chuckled, his grayed mustache quivering with his amusement at himself. "I am Gamyuo Oichi—"

"_Oichi_? Oh, then I'm definitely not taking off the hat. And I'm _definitely_ not gonna sit here and listen to you," he scoffed, beginning to rise from his seat.

"Inuyasha, at least listen to what the man has to say. He came quite a long way; all the way from Myajima," Mrs. Higurashi said softly.

"It might behoove you to listen, boy," the man said loftily. "There may be something in this conversation that could…benefit you."

Kagome gave him a look that beckoned him to listen for only a moment. Inuyasha grumbled to himself and plopped back down in the seat.

"Now then. The Renaissance Youth Art Competition. A very prestigious event. My brother's doing. I understand that you were a participant in it, yes?"

"Yeah. What of it?"

"I understand that endeavor didn't go so well for you, correct?"

"You're here to rub it in my face some more?" Inuyasha countered.

"Why no. Of course not. I'm a grown man, and I'm much too old for childish teasing," he scoffed.

"Then what do you want?" he asked abruptly.

"Inuyasha," Kagome reprimanded under her breath. She nudged his thigh with her knuckle.

"Well, I suppose I should get to the point," Gamyuo mused. "I'm here to offer you an opportunity."

"An opportunity," Inuyasha repeated as if trying on the word for the first time.

"Yes. You see, my brother and I are quite alike in some ways…in others, not so much."

"Your point being?"

"I want to pay for your college education, Inuyasha."

Inuyasha wasn't sure he'd heard him right. He wasn't sure that the words he thought he'd heard had truly been said. Perhaps the man had said, 'I want to stay for a tour of the foundation, Inuyasha,' or 'I want to slay alienation, Inuyasha' or some other oddly-placed, nonsensical phrase, but he hadn't, absolutely _hadn't_ just said—

"Oh, Kami…" Kagome murmured. So she'd misheard as well?"

"I don't…I don't think I heard you right…" Inuyasha murmured, shaking his head. Gamyuo chuckled.

"I said I want to pay for your college education, Inuyasha," he repeated.

There it was again. That ridiculous thing that Inuyasha was _positive_ the man hadn't said…he really needed to get his ears checked. Perhaps it was wax buildup?

"I know how unorthodox this is," he continued, paying no heed to the fact that the boy before him was having a tiny mental meltdown. "However I don't trust the mail, and frankly, I wanted to see the look on your face. It's priceless."

"Y-you…you're a liar…"

"No, quite the opposite. I'm telling the truth."

"B-b-but…but _why_?"

"Why _not_?"

"You're related to Goro Oichi…he…he practically _hates_ me. I…and I'm a hanyou…it doesn't make any sense…" Inuyasha babbled.

"Oh, I'm quite aware of your…condition. Believe me, that I thought long and hard about this decision before I made the trip down here. But, what can I say? I'm an absolute sucker for fabulous art," he shrugged.

"F-f-f…fabulous?" Inuyasha echoed, dazed.

"Yes. Fabulous art. I try to surround myself with it," he admitted. "I must say that there's nothing quite so intensely satisfying to me as coming home to walls and walls of amazing paintings and sculptures. I find it exhilarating."

"Wait a minute, wait a minute," Inuyasha muttered, holding up a hand. "What's the catch here? Your brother just _eliminated_ me from his competition because of what I am, and now you want to give me money? What are you playing at?" he asked, suspicion lacing his voice.

"I'm not playing at anything. I think you'll find that I am not one to play games. I don't enjoy them."

"But how can you—your brother just—"

"As I said before, while we are alike in some ways, in others, we are not."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"My brother and I were both blessed with hefty inheritances when our parents passed away quite some time ago. The ways in which we spent those inheritances couldn't be more opposite. As you well know, Goro is quite the publicity-man. He loves the limelight. I, on the other hand, choose to spend my money more quietly. It's one of the reasons you don't hear about me in the media nearly as much. However, make no mistake—I am every bit as rich and influential as my brother. I just happen to be a bit…wiser, if you will."

"…"

"As I said before, this is quite unorthodox. Not only is my coming down here to meet with you odd, but the fact that you have a…mixed…heritage is not common in the least. And I debated with myself about this entire thing, but in the end, I decided, hell, why not?"

"Huh."

"Make no mistake. This is not a scholarship or a grant or any type of traditional financial aid. This is me, filtering funds into your bank account. You do have one, don't you? Well, no matter, we'll fix that soon enough. I will fund whatever you need: tuition, room and board, a meal plan…perhaps even a small stipend, yes? Would you like that?"

"Uh-huh."

"Hm. Not exactly articulate are you? Well, it's of no consequence. I don't care if you can talk. Just as long as you can paint. Do you work here? You have a studio of some sort in the basement?"

"N-no…I…got a flat…" he mumbled, absolutely dazed and in shock.

"Oh. Where?"

"In the…the warehouse district…"

"Hm. Well, that was unexpected. That simply won't do. Okay. Perhaps I can work something out at home…some sort of room or atrium…I don't know. I'll have to think about it."

"I…I don't even know…what…how…why…"

"Don't worry about the trivial details, boy. While I can say that I am not doing this for publicity or glory, I can't say that I do not expect to derive some form of benefit out of this little arrangement," Gamyuo said flippantly.

"What do you—"

"I want you to paint for me. I've told you: I love to surround my self with great art. You, I think, fit the bill. All I want is for you to do what you do best. That's what I want."

"That…that's _it_? That's all you _want_? For me to paint?"

"Well, yes. I don't see that there's much else you _can_ do for me…taking you public _certainly_ wouldn't help my image at all. I can say I agree with my brother in that regard; you're practically media-cancer," Gamyuo said snidely. "However I can't let a talent this rare pass me by. That would be foolish. A waste. Why waste?"

Inuyasha was practically mute. His tongue stuck quite soundly to the roof of his mouth, and he worked to pry it loose.

"I…I don't know how…to _thank_ you enough…" he whispered.

"Don't worry about _words_, boy. They aren't your forte. Just paint for me. That's all the thanks I want."

* * *

Author's Note:

So….how was that? Yay! Inuyasha goes to college! (In case you hadn't noticed, college is _very_ important to me…)

Review!

Wowzer313


	22. Bliss

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, Rumiko Takahashi does.

Author's Notes: I'm so sorry I'm so late in updating! I know I haven't updated since last year (heh heh heh—never gets old) but finals were killing me! I'm proud to report, however, (if anyone even cares) that I got all A's and B's on my finals, and therefore it translates into all A's and B's on my semester grades. (not gonna lie, I was scared about AP Calc…yikes.)

Then there were the holidays…Hope everyone had a Merry Christmas! ( I don't have to be politically correct—it's my fic and I celebrate Christmas! Lol)

Anyway. Hopefully it's back to my old updating schedule.

Enjoy!

**Chapter 22: **Bliss

Inuyasha dropped the proper amount of change into the turnstile base of the bus, the clank of the coins echoing through the long corridor of the vehicle. He'd been the only occupant aside from an elderly, possible senile man and his sullen terrier. Hardly anyone ever rode the bus this far down the line, especially this late in the day. The driver pulled the lever that swung the doors open, and Inuyasha stepped off of the bus and shivered against the chill of the late evening as a gust of wind blew frigid winter air his way. His hands tightened into fists inside the pocket of his sweatshirt.

His heartbeat quickened ever so slightly as the rows and rows of gravestones came into his line of sight. He wasn't afraid. But the thought of being surrounded by corpses wasn't exactly comforting. The wrought iron gate groaned raucously as he pushed it open, the sound reverberating a number of times through the desolate field of stones. Treading carefully, Inuyasha walked for what seemed like hours until he reached the tiny plot on the edge of the land, just under a sweeping willow tree, bare of leaves and full of dark crows. He sighed at the task that had to be done; like so many other stones in the yard, this one was tagged with the indecipherable symbols of graffiti, caked with moss and mud, and splattered with bird dung. Unlike so many other stones, it was painstakingly maintained every so often by someone who cared.

Inuyasha crouched by the tall stone, shrugging his backpack off and retrieving the cleaner fluid, paint scraper, and cloth from its pouch. He first set about to chiseling off the mounds of moss and dung that had accumulated atop the stone, taking care not to chip the rock itself. He then poured cleaner onto his cloth and tenderly wiped the paint from it, being sure to wipe inside the engraved symbols that spelled her name.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. He pulled out a small bottle of stone polish. "I'm really _really_ sorry…I know I haven't come to visit in a long time…I'm sorry," he apologized profusely. With a fresh cloth, he began to buff the granite in slow, firm strokes from top to base. "It's just that everything is so…so…great. Yeah. Everything is so great now. I know, that's not an excuse. Still. That's a big part of why I haven't come…" Golden eyes flicked across the expanse of the rock as he worked, as if seeking some sort of pardon from the stone. The granite stone, hard and cold sat silently, unresponsive, unforgiving. He was contrite.

"Please don't be mad…" he begged. "It's been what…two months? I think that's about right—Kami, that's bad. But don't be mad at me, please? I'm kind of…I'm kind of feeling good about everything. Mostly everything. And I think…I'm pretty sure that the last couple of weeks have been the best in a really long time," Inuyasha said softly.

A soft smile tugged at his lips. His hands continued to work at their task. "I'm goin' to college, Ma," he whispered with barely contained excitement. "I got…a scholarship that pays for _everything_. Tuition, room and board, books and fees—everything." He paused, thinking about that day when Gamyuo Oichi had called upon him in order to 'talk business' at his elaborate estate. Conditioning and life experience taught him that he must be careful to whom he dealt out his trust. For this reason, he was still quite skeptical of Gamyuo Oichi's offer. His inherent and unyielding skepticism had to take a backseat however when the man had extended the invitation to his home in order to 'get to know him a little better'.

"He doesn't exactly _like_ me, per say—the one who gave me the money—but I don't care. He can hate me for all I care, just so long as he gives me the money."

* * *

Inuyasha clutched the tiny scrap of paper in his gloved palm as he stared goggle-eyed at the property before which he stood. He really _really_ wished that Kagome and her mother hadn't simply booted him out of the car with nothing but Mr.Oichi's address and his canvas bag. 'What now?' he thought.

"May I help you?" a tinny-sounding voice crackled from a small speaker embedded in the brick pillar he hadn't before noticed. He neary jumped out of his skin. "Press the button to respond," the voice prompted flatly, as though it were aware he hadn't a clue what to do. With a grimace, Inuyasha pushed the small rectangular button beneath the box.

"Um…I'm Inuyasha Chikamatsu—I'm here to see Mr. Oichi?" he explained uncertainly.

"The painting kid?"

"Um…sure."

The gates slowly swung open with an ear-piercing groan, and Inuyasha started his way up the drive, picking his way gingerly along the icy cobblestones. It was all he needed to slip and have an arm or leg go crashing through one of his pieces; it would be just his luck.

He passed an out-of-commission fountain, grandiose and elaborate, placed right in the middle of the vast courtyard that lay in front of the expansive house. Inuyasha pressed the ornate doorbell, which sounded hollow within as he studied the grain of the highly polished, deep mahogany twin doors, with their brilliant gold accents. He was surprised that Gamyuo answered the door himself; he'd been expecting a servant of some sort.

"Welcome, Inuyasha. I'm glad you could make it," he greeted amiably, stepping back to allow him entry.

"Thank you for inviting me."

"It's of no consequence," he said quickly, brushing off his thanks. "You may leave your jacket there on the table. Yumi will take care of it," he instructed. "You may come with me."

Inuyasha did as he was told and shrugged out of his sweatshirt, an inadequate barrier against the cold anyway, and followed Gamyuo as he traveled leisurely through a maze of ornately decorated corridors. Inuyasha perused the trappings and fixings of the hallways, the intricately painted vases on what Gamyuo said were hand-carved tables and curio cases. His feet almost sank into the plush carpet as he padded along after the man.

"What do you say we have a light lunch, and then we'll talk business, hm? Sound good?"

"Yes," Inuyasha said gratefully; he was starving.

Gamyuo led him into an enclosed porch-like structure, lit with the gray rays of sun filtering in through the giant windows that framed the picturesque snowy hillsides of his property. A small table was already set with fine silverware and antique-looking plates, impossibly fresh flowers spilling out of a clear vase in the center of the table.

Gamyuo sat in the seat closest to the door through which they'd entered, motioning for Inuyasha to do the same. Inuyasha propped his bag against the leg of the table near his seat and awkwardly sat down.

"Where is your sister?" Gamyuo asked, just as a group of three solemn, uniformly dressed men brought in three uniform silver trays with various dishes on them.

"My sister?" Inuyasha parroted with a squint.

"Yes, and your mother. Did they decide not to join us today?" he asked as he fixed a plate for himself. Inuyasha's brow wrinkled in confusion as he tried to formulate an answer. "Are you confused?" Gamyuo prompted after the boy's lack of response.

"I don't know where—"

"Perhaps she's your half-sister, what with the different last names and all—the two dark-haired women at your house. Are you still confused?" Gamyuo spoke slowly, as if Inuyasha were slow.

"Oh! Oh…" Inuyasha exclaimed, realizing the error. "She—Kagome's not my sister…" he started with a blush.

"Oh, really? Hm. Then who is she?"

"She's my…you know," Inuyasha shrugged, giving the man a leading look. Gamyuo looked at him blankly, and Inuyasha had the feeling that he _did_ know, but only wanted him to _say_ it. "She's my girlfriend," he muttered embarrassedly. "And Mrs. Higurashi is her mom."

"Ah, I see." Gamyuo nodded knowingly. "How…cute," he said, if Inuyasha wasn't mistaken, in a bit of a teasing tone. "If she's of no blood relation to you, then why do you share a residence?"

"We don't."

"Then I'm confused," he said flatly as he spread butter on a roll. "If you don't share a residence, then why is her address listed as yours? That _is_ the address that you listed as your own when you applied for the competition, is it not?"

"Well, see, it's kind of complicated…"

"I'd be interested to hear in any case."

"Kagome entered me. I mean, she was the one who sent the picture in and filled out my application form," he explained. Gamyuo eyed him skeptically before biting into his bread with relish.

"Okay. Okay, I see where this is going. Well then. I'd like to meet with your parents, Inuyasha. Don't you think they should be involved at some point? I thought you'd have the sense to bring one of both of them with you to day, but I suppose that _was_ a bit presumptuous of me…" he trailed off, shaking his head. Inuyasha bristled a bit at that barb, but ignored it otherwise. "When do you think the adults could meet, hm? Face to face."

"You can't," Inuyasha answered bluntly. Gamyuo looked taken aback at his sudden abruptness.

"Why not?" he asked, just as blunt.

"Because my mom is dead, and my dad won't come." Gamyuo raised an eyebrow as though asking for more information. "It's no joke, and I'm not exaggerating. My dad won't come no matter what I say. He doesn't like me, I don't like him, and he won't care what happens to me after high school. He hardly cares what happens to me right now."

"Hm."

"This is the only chance I've got," he said, motioning to the table, yet meaning Ganyuo's offering. "For a real future, I mean. There's no way I'd earn any money any other way. Not for college. Not for me." Gamyuo studied the earnest boy across the table from him, the youth not having yet touched his food. His fists sat clenched on the table on either side of his plate, and he had a fierce, determined, yet desperate expression on his face.

"Okay. Alright, I understand. I get what you're telling me," he nodded. He smiled a bit and allowed himself a chuckle at the boy's impassioned insistence before he turned serious. "I must tell you, however…a large part of college success depends on a student's support system. There are very few students that last without some type of fallback person. On top of that, I've done some investigating, and…your grades…well, suffice it to say that they leave something to be desired. Needless to say, I don't want to invest such a sizeable amount of money into someone who is set up to fail…what do you have to say about that?"

Inuyasha thought for a moment and chose his words carefully.

"I know…I know that I'm not exactly a _prime _student or anything…and it's hard. But I've…I've lasted for a long time on my own…I…I don't have a real family or anything, but…I've got me. That's all I've had for a while, is just me, and I think…I think that I can do it. I've just been needing a chance—to _prove_ that, and—"

"Okay, okay, boy. No need to sell yourself too much. I'm convinced," he chuckled, patting his lips with his handkerchief. "So. This girl is very important to you, then?"

"Yes, very much."

"Then where is she now?" Inuyasha grimaced and sighed.

"Shopping."

* * *

Gamyuo was kinder to him that Inuyasha had expected him to be. After they'd eaten lunch, he'd taken him on a tour of his grand home, from the grand bedrooms that, in Inuyasha's opinion served no purpose, to the greenhouses, to the stables. Just when he was feeling overwhelmed, inadequate, and quite small, the man led him into his art gallery, so extensive and vast that he'd had an entirely different building constructed for it.

Inuyasha had gaped at the portraits and landscapes that covered the walls from ceiling to floor. It was an entire museum in one room. He felt as though he and his art couldn't live up to the greatness before him. His fears had quickly dissipated when Gamyuo tugged his canvas bag away from him, reaching into it like a starving man into a pot. His eyes ran greedily over the pieces Inuyasha had brought, and after a few tense moments, he quite loudly approved, sending Inuyasha spiraling into relief and embarrassed pride.

He'd even gone so far as to take him to a bank and help him set up an account, teaching him on the way how to balance his finances and write a check, all the things he'd never been taught but needed to know. They'd discussed school choices as well. Rather, Gamyuo Oichi had recommended schools, and Inuyasha respectfully yet firmly declined. The only school he was interested in was Tokyo University; Kagome had just received her acceptance letter in the mail a few days ago, and that was the only place he wanted to go.

"You know, um…Kagome—I told you about her before—she says she's really proud of me," he grinned. He shook his head, the little bit of disbelief that lingered causing him to raise his eyebrows. "The thing is…I…I'm starting to be really proud of me too."

The wind howled through the branches of the willow tree, biting at the skin of his cheeks. He pulled his hood onto his head, shrinking down into the jacket. He was suddenly wishing he'd worn about three more shirts.

"So it's Christmas Eve," he began. "I'm, um…I'm supposed to be at Kagome's house right now…I'm really late. I'm always late. But…I couldn't go and spend time with my second family before I came to see my first tonight," he said earnestly. "Merry Christmas, Ma…I really miss you. I…I really wish you were here…You know…for the first time in a long time I really think…I really think that you'd be proud of me if you could see me." He got choked up, only for a second. He struggled to swallow the lump that had spontaneously formed in his throat.

"Look at this," he chuckled, shaking his head and sniffing. "I don't wanna get all sad tonight. Kagome'll notice. She always does. And she'll ask me what's wrong, and she won't shut up until I tell her," he laughed. He sobered quickly, clearing his throat before he continued. "I should go. I just wanted to let you know that I'm okay. I'm really okay." He reread the hard characters engraved in the granite for the umpteenth time. "I hope you are too," he whispered.

He lifted three fingers to his mouth, quickly pressing them to the cold granite face. "Love you," he mumbled, almost silently. He made his hurried exit.

* * *

His gift weighed heavily in his pocket, despite its slight size, and rubbed against his thigh with every shift he made in his seat, a constant reminder of what he was going to do at the first given opportunity.

'She probably thinks I don't have anything for her,' he thought to himself. He could tell; that was _exactly_ what she thought. Sure, she was trying to hide it, but every once in a while, when she would glance over at him with that little look on her face while holding one more fabulous present from another, he could see it. It made him feel bad. Especially since what she thought wasn't true.

He'd only just arrived no more than ten minutes ago, and it was late into the evening. He would have spent the night Christmas Eve, but the Higurashis had family to visit, and he surely didn't want to go through any overly awkward situations. The family had kindly assured him that they would wait to open presents until he got there, so that he wouldn't miss a thing. He was certain that they all knew how significant being able to spend Christmas with them was; why else would they wait for him? He appreciated it greatly.

Inuyasha looked around the homey little living room, all decked out in the trimmings of Christmas. Souta was busy playing with the numerous toys he'd received as Mrs. Higurashi and her father watched on from the sofa he sat on as well, grinning with pride at every cry of excitement from the child, their attention occasionally drifting to the television. Kagome flitted around the room, snapping photos as usual. A flash blinded him momentarily and he blinked hard to clear them, opening them to see her beaming back at him before she took off to capture another memory.

A real holiday celebration. He sighed as he glanced around the room for the umpteenth time, his gaze lingering on the gaily decorated tree, the shining ornaments winking merrily at him. The sweet scent of pine laced the air, and he now knew why it had lingered when he'd celebrated New Year's Eve with them the previous year. The freshly cut tree that Kagome, Souta and he had retrieved from the nearby forest two weeks prior perfumed the air and shone with the colored lights they'd strung about its boughs.

He'd tried to act as though the entire event was no big deal; he felt that he'd failed miserable at that. He didn't know why he tried to act nonchalant. It had been so long since he'd had a real Christmas. In his house, it was only recognized as Christmas by the numbered box on the calendar. Aside from that, Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and that night were the only times out of the year that Inuyasha could be almost positively sure that his father would be out of the house. Any other time it was a gamble.

* * *

Inuyasha hadn't known that any place would be open through the holidays, but once more proving his complete and utter lack of any sort of propriety or reverence for the holidays, his father had managed to fine some dive in which to lose himself for the night. 

"Are you listening? You dumbass, I said are you _listening?_" his father snapped, thumping him soundly on the back of a tender ear. Inuyasha yelped and grabbed the offended appendage.

"Yes, Sir, I'm listening," he hissed in pain, rubbing his ear between his knuckles.

"I said I want the entire house _spotless_," he emphasized. He rummaged through the kitchen drawers, tossing out various envelopes, billing statements, receipts and junk mail. Finally he pulled out a long string of gold foil squares, small rings bulging out against the shrink-wrapped paper. Inuyasha blushed and had the good grace to turn away. "I want the sinks bleached out, the laundry in my room cleaned—I want a clean sweep of everything. Gotta start the new year off right, and you'd better start now," he instructed, tucking the string of squares into his jacket pocket.

"How long will you be gone for?" Inuyasha asked without thinking. He winced and bit his tongue. He'd only wanted to make sure the man would be absent so that he could get on with his own plans. Taishou paused in shrugging into his jacket and eyed his son hard.

"What kind of question is that? Why?"

"I, um…I was just wondering," he said quickly.

"What were you wondering _for_, you smartass little shit?" Inuyasha sighed exasperatedly, frustrated. His father made no sense; one minute, he was calling him a dumbass, the next, he was calling him a smartass. He shook his head, wishing he'd never opened his big mouth.

"Just so…so I could know how much time I have. To clean the house, I mean. So I can manage my time," he lied. He congratulated himself internally; that was a pretty good one.

"Don't fucking _worry_ about it. You just get the shit done. This place is a fucking sty, and if it's not done when I get back, you trust me, you'll feel it," the man threatened. That was the only thing Inuyasha trusted his father to do, was make him 'feel it'. It was all he'd ever done. Taishou finished adjusting his jacket and whipped the front door open, allowing cold air from the outside to mingle with the cold air inside, slamming it shut behind him. Inuyasha watched him scrunch his hulking figure into the little put-put of a car, the vehicle shifting down on one side with his added weight.

"May you get into a fatal car accident," he muttered hatefully under his breath. Even with the man actively driving down the block, Inuyasha still was prickled by the thought that he could somehow hear him.

* * *

"Inuyasha," Kagome whispered, suddenly in his ear. He jumped, surprised, turning on the couch to face her.

"Yeah?"

"Come upstairs with me," she urged, tugging gently on a piece of his hair. "Come on, while everyone's distracted." Inuyasha glanced at the rest of the Higurashi clan, their attention diverted to the stockings that hung over the fireplace. He surreptitiously slipped off of the couch and slunk out of the room behind Kagome.

She grabbed his hand as soon as they were at the stairs, smiling as she started to run. He grinned cluelessly and jogged after her as she darted into her room. She gently pressed the door shut, turning the small lock with a tiny _click_. She smiled secretly, mischievously as she passed by him to cross the room, grazing her finger down his arm.

"What?" he smiled, turning to follow her with his eyes.

"I wanted to give you your present," she said simply, pulling out a long wrapped box. "I didn't want to give it to you downstairs. It's kind of personal. And embarrassing," she added as an afterthought. Inuyasha cocked an eyebrow, intrigued now. He ripped into the paper without hesitation, popping the top of the box open.

His jaw dropped and he stared at Kagome incredulously. She stared back with wide, innocent eyes, leaning against her desk, her thumbs twiddling.

"You…you got me boxers?" he asked. "With…with _lips_ on them?" He lifted the material out of the box, staring at it with disbelief. "And…and they're silky…"

"I expect to see you in them," she said seriously, giving him an almost stern look. "And nothing else." Inuyasha was speechless, bowled over, thrown for a loop. Kagome burst out laughing suddenly, bent over with the force of her guffaws.

"The look on your face!" she managed to exclaim. "You looked so shocked!" She crossed to stand in front of him, and took the box out of his hands, tossing it to the floor. Her hands tugged at the boxers, waving them in front of his face teasingly. Inuyasha let out a deep breath of relief, allowing himself to chuckle a bit, giving her a disbelieving look.

"Here," she said, pulling a sleek black book tied with a red ribbon tied around it from behind her back. She was still giggling a bit. "This is the real gift. The other was more of a joke," she explained needlessly. "Unless of course…you _want_ to wear them for me…" she added leadingly. His dark brows shot up into his hair.

"…Seriously?" he choked. She shrugged and gave him a coy look.

"I wouldn't complain…" she informed him. Inuyasha blushed and turned his head, his thoughts heading south. "What?" she pushed playfully.

"If…if I wear only underwear…you've gotta do the same thing," he mumbled almost silently. He dared to sneak a look at her, and she seemed to be considering this.

"Deal." He studied her skeptically, and could find no teasing or laughter on her face. He exhaled slowly, unsure of how to respond to that. "But that's fun for another day," she said quickly. "Go ahead an open it," she urged.

Inuyasha turned his attention back down to the little book in his hands, sitting down on her bed, opening the front cover. She settled down beside him, reading over his shoulder. 'Coupons' it read in swirling characters, sweeping across the creamy colored page. He frowned in confusion.

"Just keep looking," she prompted, seeing his frown. Turning the page, he understood. It was photo album…of coupons. On the left hand side, there was a picture of Kagome, her arms wrapped around herself, beaming at the viewer as usual. The opposite page read 'Good for One Hug.'.

"You see?" she asked, leaning into him. He grinned, flipping the page. There was a picture of his ears, opposite of the sentence 'Good for One Ear Rub.'

"Only one?" he asked in mock-disappointment.

"We might have to amend a few of them," she admitted with a smirk. The next page depicted her puckered lips, its coupon reading, 'Good for One Kiss'.

"Now _this_ is a good one," he said enthusiastically. "You know we've got to change that one."

"How about…one very intense makeout session?" she suggested playfully.

"That's more like it," he announced, nodding with satisfaction. "Very nice picture by the way," he added. She kissed his nose.

"You like it?"

"It's great," he said honestly.

"There's lots more in there," she pointed out, pecking his lips one more time. She stood, starting to move towards the door. "So check them out. I'm gonna just run and get an extra roll of film, okay? I'll be right ba—" Inuyasha leaned across the bed, reaching out and grabbing her wrist before her hand could touch the knob.

"Wait—" he blurted. She frowned, smiling a bit in confusion.

"What? I'll be right back, I just—"

"I know…Just, um…don't go."

"Why?"

"It…it's my turn." Her brow wrinkled.

"You're turn to what?"

"To give you your present," he wheezed. It was just now that he was beginning to think that maybe he couldn't quite give the little speech he'd summed up in his head.

"Aw, Inuyasha," she said, a slow smile starting to spread on her lips. "I didn't think…you didn't have to do that," she told him.

"Yes…yes I did…" he stammered. She waited expectantly. "So, I…You, um…" He trailed off, looking up at her from his seat on her bed. "Could you—could you sit down? I just, um…yeah," he stammered.

"Okay…" she said slowly. "Are you alright? You're all rushed all of a sudden."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good," he brushed off. His hands dove into his pockets and clenched into fists. "So…I didn't want to—rather, I figured you were probably sick of all the portraits—"

"No, I'm not!" she insisted. "I love them, Inuyasha. I'd never get sick of them," she assured him. "Besides, you've only given me that first one, and then the one a month and a half ago for my birthday. Oh, and the one that's got my mom and your mom in it. Only three," she ticked off. He grimaced.

"Yeah, well…still. I wanted to give you something different…but…well, you know I don't have a lot of money. If I got you something off the money Totosai gives me it'd be really cheap and…anyway. So it's not new…it's really old, actually…" he reflected. "And I know you don't normally wear this kind of stuff, and I really don't even know if it'll fit, and I know it's not your favorite color or anything, but…" he babbled, finishing what he thought was a necessary disclaimer. He snatched his hand out of his pocket and slapped the small object flat on the bed, quickly yanking his arm back to fold it and its twin across his chest.

"Here," he grunted, an intense blush painting his cheeks rosy. There was absolute silence in the room, save for the noise of springs crunching as Inuyasha agitatedly bounced his leg up and down. He braced himself and dared a quick glance at her. Her widened eyes were immovably fixed on the tiny silver band that sat innocently on her quilt. The line of three brilliant, square-cut topaz stones winked in the dim light. He felt embarrassed all over again just _looking _at it; surely she wouldn't want some old castoff? He hadn't a thing to wrap it with. He didn't have one of those tiny velvet boxes like all the men had on the jewelry commercials, and doubted that a store would sell him a box alone if he asked. So he'd taken a length of red ribbon from a bow on one of Souta's presents and tied it to the ring. He grimaced, wishing he hadn't done that. It looked stupid.

His mind wandered back to earlier that day, when he'd stopped at his flat in order to retrieve the ring.

Stretching his arm as far as it could go, his claws suddenly caught on a chink in the wooden box that he knew was hidden in the hole in the wall. He always had to be very discreet with that hole; if Totosai knew about it, he'd have a fit. He would have also probably tried to strip Inuyasha of the valuables stored in it as well. So Inuyasha made sure that his rack of canvases more than adequately disguised the place where the drywall crumbled in, making a perfect little cove for his treasures.

He flexed his fingers slowly, bringing the box closer so that he could wrap a hand around it. Finally he managed to maintain a firm grip, and pulled the simply carved wooden box from its hiding place. He sneezed loudly as bits of crumbling drywall managed to enter his sensitive nose. 'Great,' he thought dryly, seating himself cross-legged. 'Now I'm fucking _snotting_ all over the place. He sniffled and wiped the dust from the top of the box with his sleeve, exposing the curlicue design that covered the top.

The lid creaked as he opened it, and he was careful to make sure that the weight of it didn't snap the delicate hinges off. It was a very old box. He'd already inadvertently chipped some of the varnished glaze off of a corner. In his mad dash to pack as the social worker was rushing him away from his home, he'd run into his mother's room, desperate to take something of hers; he'd accidentally knocked it against the edge of her dresser, exposing the meat of the wood. It had been the only thing he could grab.

It had been a long time since he'd gone through the contents of the box. The last time, he'd been fourteen, and in the midst of one of his 'runaway nights', sleeping on the few sheets he kept in the loft. Everything was in almost the exact position that he'd left it. His mouth gave way to a nostalgic smile. The seemingly innocuous prism of wood held all that he had to remember his mother by.

His fingers sifted through the thick stack of pictures that she'd kept in there for some unknown reason. Pictures of her when she was in high school and college, a photo of her parents, his grandparents, he supposed. Biologically at least. He'd never met the people. They'd never wanted to meet him. There were several pictures of him: when he was a baby, a toddler, his elementary school photos, and everything in between. She even had a picture of them together, laughing mirthfully as she laid a big kiss on his cheek. His heart clenched, his eyes stung, and he found he had difficulty swallowing and breathing, and it had nothing to do with the cloud of dust he was surrounded by. Now he remembered why he didn't often sift through that thing.

He moved the photos to the side, exposing the rest of the box's contents, scattered haphazardly against the red velvet that lined the inside. As he reached inside, his fingers brushed against a silky material, tucked securely under a tiny ledge on the edge of the box. He pulled it out, knowing just what it was. The light teaberry pink scarf was soft and slid easily across his fingers. His mother used to wear it tied around her ponytail, or around her crown like a headband. He remembered stuffing it in the box at the last second, wanting something that held her scent. A bit embarrassed at the urge, but giving in to it anyway, he lifted the cloth to his nose and took a quick whiff; it was so faded—eight years had been cruel to the sweet aroma it had once held. Even still, he could catch a slight trace of her, and it made him ache. He stuffed it back.

Finally he located what he was looking for, a tiny silver circle in the corner. He picked it up, inspecting it, and buffed it with the cuff of his shirt until it shone.

It had seemed like a good idea at the time. Now, sitting beside her as she just stared at it, he wondered if he should have selected one of the other pieces his mom had owned, or if Kagome simply didn't want a dead woman's relics.

"It…it, um…it was my mom's…" he began uncomfortably. She still did not speak. "I'm sorry…I just thought…I mean—she used to wear it all the time. She said…she said it was the kind of ring every girl dreamed of having, so I just thought…" he left off leadingly. "I just thought you might…you know…"

He sighed miserably. He certainly hadn't been expecting it to go like this. There was no way he could finish his little plan now…

"I'll get you something else…if you want, I could do another—"

"You want…you want me to _have_ this?" she asked finally, her voice shaking and full of disbelief. Inuyasha was startled.

"If…if you want it…" he answered uncertainly. "Do you? Do you want it? Do you even like it?"

"Inuyasha…this is…this is _so_ beautiful…it's perfect," she breathed. He felt the stress and tension seep out of him quicker than air out of a punctured tire.

"Holy _shit_, Kagome! I thought you _hated_ it," he hissed. "Fucking _scared_ me—"

"Inuyasha, it's so important…are you sure you want to give this to me? I don't know if I can—"

"No, no, no, don't say that!" he exclaimed. "Don't say you can keep it. I _want_ you to keep it, Kagome." He smiled. "It's simple, yeah? So…so maybe it fits you?" he asked. She gave him a shaky smile in return, nodding. "You wanna wear it? Can I put it on you?"

"Yes," she choked out. He picked up the small piece of jewelry and held her right hand in his own. Taking a guess and hoping that remembered correctly, he selected her fourth finger, and smiled when it slipped on easily.

"See? Perfect fit. It suits you…you were meant to wear it," he murmured, still tenderly cradling her hand in his. Impulsively, he lifted her trembling fingers to his lips and pressed a long, soft kiss to the knuckle just under the band. She laughed, and it sounded suspiciously like a half-sob.

"Inuyasha…it's too much—I can't take your mother's ring. It's beautiful, and perfect, and so _so _sweet, and I love it, I do. But can't just take it—"

"You're not taking it. I gave it to you," he pointed out. "What am I gonna do with it anyway? It's a bit feminine for me," he joked. She smiled slightly but didn't laugh. "It looks much better on your finger than just sitting in some box collecting dust." Kagome shook her head, smiling disbelievingly. He bit his lip, thinking that if he didn't take the plunge now, he might never get the chance or the nerve again.

"It's not too much, Kagome," he said quietly. "Not for you. I mean, I know it's a lot—I mean, the symbol anyway, or whatever. But…it's not too much for you, because…because it's what I _want_ to give you," he said earnestly.

He calmed himself with a deep breath before continuing and letting go of her hand. "And I know it's okay. I know it's okay, 'cause…'cause if my mom was alive, I know she would have loved you. Almost…almost as much as I l-love you…" His heart galloped at a pace so rapid, it threatened to burst through his ribs. It was sending so much blood to his face that his head was throbbing and his feet and hands were starting to tingle from lack of ample circulation. Still, he'd promised himself and made a silent promise to Kagome that he would be honest and straightforward, and was going to try to do just that.

"I really can't _help_ but love…you, Kagome. 'Cause you…give me more than I could ever hope for. You're everything that…I'm _sure_ every guy wishes for in…in a woman. You treat me and everyone, really, with this…this enormous amount of respect and dignity…and…and I admire you for that—I _thank_ you for that."

"I'm…I'm grateful to you for a lot of stuff…You made me feel again. And I…I didn't think I could do that anymore. But you've…shown me how to do it, taught me again. You've shown me so much—made me try things that I wouldn't normally 'cause I was afraid. You opened my eyes to so much, and…feels like…it feels like I'm seeing stuff for the first time, seeing things better, 'cause you've…shown me how to look on the bright side of things when I thought there wasn't one."

"Not to mention, I've…smiled and laughed more than I ever thought was possible for me," he added with a wry smile and a chuckle. "'Cause…just with you there's so much more to smile and laugh about. And…you've given me a family. You share yours with me every day I come over here, and…you have to know that that is so…_huge_ to me…"

Finally tearing his gaze away from his wringing hands, he looked at her face, hoping that alone wouldn't force him to lose his nerve. It certainly didn't help. She was looking at him as thought he'd just wounded her, her lips parted, brows drawn upward into a frown. He had no idea what to make of that face, but it wasn't positive, he suspected. He had to finish. He was too far in now.

"You give and give and give to me, and I don't think I can ever…ever fully repay you. You…you may not have known it but you saved my life. You saved me from m-myself, and…I don't know exactly how to repay that debt, but I…I love you for it…" he finished. She was so silent. He couldn't even hear her breathing.

"And now, I have probably screwed absolutely everything up," he chuckled nervously. "You are looking at me like I am an absolute fool, and…I'm s-sorry." He opted to try and fix the situation that, to him, looked as though it were on its way to spiraling out of control.

"It's okay…if you don't feel…that. I'm alright with that," he lied. He was heartbroken. All he'd wanted for Christmas was for her to say those words back to him. "I know you like me—that's good enough for me. I just wanted…to…to let _you_ know that…that you mean the world to me. And that you're my best friend, and that…I wish I had more to offer you. I wish I had more to give…'cause I would…I'd give you all that I had to off—"

Kagome all but launched herself into his chest, squeezing an '_oof_' out of him, wrapping her arms around his neck and holding on tight.

"Inuyasha," she sobbed. He winced. She was crying. Or beginning to. He could smell the tang of salt wafting from her. "Inuyasha…"

"Kagome…" he began. He hesitantly lifted his arms around her ribcage and patted her back. "Kagome, I said it was alright—"

"No! No…" Her grip tightened. "No, 'cause I love you," she whimpered. For the second time that night, relief hit him like a sack of hammers, and the throbbing in his skull increased tenfold at her words. He found himself hugging her back just as fiercely, and having to remind himself to loosen up on his grip; he could seriously hurt her if he wasn't careful.

"Say it again," he demanded, his voice weak and coming out in a jumbled rush. "Say it again, Kagome. Tell me again."

She pulled out of his tightly locked arms, having to fight the bit of resistance he put up. Inuyasha didn't think she'd ever looked so deeply into his eyes, and he fought to find his breath. Her hands traveled up either side of his face, rendering him immobile with such simple touches. Her face was shiny with tear tracks, as he knew it would be.

"I love you, Inuyasha Chikamatsu. I love you so much," she whispered. He couldn't stop himself he fell forward onto her, his cheek against the soft cushion of her breasts, his temple pressed just above her heart. Her arms wrapped around the girdle of his shoulders, cradling him as though he were a child.

"Kami," he whimpered. "No one's…I haven't heard that in so long…no one's said that to me in…in eight years," he whispered, more to himself than to her.

"Let me make up the time," she murmured gently. Soft fingers ran through his scruffy bangs, and she kissed his hairline. "I love you." Her nails scraped gently against the back of each of his wildly waving ears, followed by the warm, moist pucker of her lips. "I love you." She pulled his face up to hers and mapped it with kisses, murmuring her love for him after each one. Inuyasha returned her ardor enthusiastically, pressing himself into the soft warmth of her body, exhilarated by their actions, her words, his good fortune. His hands dipped into the ink black abyss of her hair, the tips of his claws grazing her scalp, eliciting little sighs of contentment that he just couldn't get enough of.

His hands began to travel, their mouths still hotly connected, pulling and drawing on one another. His fingers danced over the supple skin of her neck, caressed her shoulders and tickled her back. Kagome groaned into his mouth as his hands gently massaged her through the slippery material of her top. Suddenly she gasped, pulling Inuyasha out of his haze. With his mind cleared and his eyes open, his mind was able to alert him to the fact that one of his hands were out of place. He gasped himself, snatching the offending appendage away from where it had been lying against the outer curve of her left breast, and apologizing profusely.

"I'm sorry! Shit, Kagome, I'm sorry!"

"Inuyasha," she said softly.

"I'm really sorry, I didn't mean to—" Kagome rolled her eyes and pushed a finger to his rapidly moving lips.

"Inuyasha, it's okay," she assured him. He didn't look convinced. Grabbing both of his wrists, she slowly moved them to the top button of her shirt. He inhaled, held it, and became very still, his intense eyes piercing at that spot. "It's okay. Really."

"You want me to—I should unbu—" She nodded to the questions he was unable to finish. She smiled inwardly as his high cheeks darkened and he pressed his lips together firmly. His hands shook so much that she could feel it as he fumbled with the top button, finally managing to pop it open. Inuyasha's mouth had gone dry, and he decided that perhaps he should refrain from kissing her for the time being.

It wasn't that he and Kagome hadn't done their fair share of making out. They'd done plenty of 'heavy petting', as Kagome sometimes called it. Though he wasn't sure why. There was no 'petting' involved. There was plenty of kissing, sucking and licking, even a bit of playful biting on his part, but there was definitely no 'petting'. That wasn't the problem. 'Well…not exactly a _problem_,' he thought. While they'd kissed heavily before, there had never been any removal of clothing. The fact that it was happening now both excited and terrified him. He knew Kagome would be perfect—there was no doubt in his mind about that. But what about him? He remembered the picture she had of that American actor—Or-an-doh, or whatever his name was. He couldn't help but wonder how he would stack up next to him. Sure, she'd been with him while he was shirtless, but she was busy fretting over him and tending to his wounds. There was a big difference between nudity out of necessity and induced nudity for recreation.

Kagome watched him as he worked. He paused before moving on to the second. His claws gave him trouble, but Kagome wasn't going to help him along. She wanted him to take his time, to savor this. Hell, _she_ wanted to savor this.

Slowly, one by one, the buttons to her shirt came undone, and the two flaps of the blouse hung open at her sides, exposing her to the cold air. She shivered, not only from the apparent draft that was in her room, but from the intensity with which Inuyasha regarded her chest, and to her surprise, she found herself blushing.

"Wow." Kagome fought the urge to laugh at his blunt and brief grunt of appreciation. Instead she just smiled shakily and allowed the slippery blouse to fall from her shoulders and pool on the bed. Trying to appear calmer than she felt, she placed his hands on her sides, leaned forward on her knees, and kissed him, subsequently returning to her straight-backed cross-legged position, waiting his next move.

His thumbs started trace slow arcs on her sides, and his fingers splayed widely over her skin. Experimentally, he lightly dragged the tips of the claws of one hand across her belly, smiling a bit when she shivered, and her skin broke with goosebumps. He brushed his fingers over and into the shallow dip of her belly button, tracing a circle around it. She shimmied away from his touch, standing by the bed. His eyes snapped to her face, questioning if he'd done something wrong.

She showed him wrong when her hands gripped the hem of his t-shirt, and tugged up insistently. 'Moment of truth,' he thought, resigned and filled with dread. Kagome was going to get his shirt off no matter what he protested with. So he reluctantly lifted his arms so that she could pull the shirt over his head, the collar ruffling his hair.

Kagome drank in the sight of him before her, shirtless, and looking uncomfortable and unsure. She let her eyes run over his form, from the inviting looking juncture between his neck and shoulder, to the place where his naked flesh disappeared into his pants. She smiled sadly, pressing her palm to an oblong, discolored area, obviously a place where a nasty scar had been. He may have been able to heal faster than a human, and he may have been able to get away with his health relatively still intact. But she didn't care what he said: it would never go away completely. Not with beatings as severe as he got. His skin told the story.

"So many scars…" she murmured softly, studying the mottled places that marred his chest and stomach. He eyed her uncertainly, gauging her for a reaction. "Yet still so beautiful."

The passionate, desperate, pleading look he shot her with had her reeling. He stood suddenly, yanking her forward and taking her mouth deeply. With the hard, unyielding surface of him pressed so intimately against her own bare upper torso, Kagome went dizzy, and her knees almost buckled. She grabbed his shoulders tight to steady herself. Abruptly, she pulled back, and she heard Inuyasha make a small frustrated sound in the back of his throat. She grinned to herself, kissing his chin to placate him.

Biting her lip with nervousness, she undid the button on her jeans and unzipped the fly. With a little wiggle of her hips, she slid the denim down her legs, stepping one foot out of them, and kicking them to the side with the other.

She was suddenly grateful that she'd chosen to wear a pretty, matching bra and panty set, black and red, lacy and flattering. She hadn't been _expecting_ anything like this tonight, and the fact that her underwear matched was pure luck. Although, when she thought about it, Inuyasha probably wouldn't have given a care.

"Did…Did y—" His voice cracked sharply. He didn't seem embarrassed, as he would have normally been. "I d-don't remember if…if y-y-you l-locked the d-d-door…" he stammered, his eyes rooted at her.

"It's locked," she promised, glancing at it to double check anyway. She stepped to him and kept his eye contact, difficult as it was for her, and unbuttoned his pants as well, pushing them down just to the top of his thighs. Then, she stepped around him, peeling the three thick comforters on the bed back. She shimmied down underneath them and moved towards the wall, allowing him room. She looked at him expectantly.

Inuyasha, unsure of how far this was going to go, but thinking that he'd enjoy finding out, tentatively pushed his pants off, followed by his socks, quickly seeking refuge from the cold underneath the blankets with the beautiful woman that he was breathlessly in love with.

He settled on his side, reveling in the warmth given by the blankets and Kagome. They stared into each other's eyes, both amazed at the amount of unbounded emotion the other held.

"I just want to touch," Kagome whispered nervously. "I've really wanted to touch you like this." Inuyasha nodded his agreement. He tenderly brushed loose wisps of hair out of her eyes, and let his palm slide across her cheek.

"I love you so much," he whispered back. She smiled beautifully and beckoned him closer, shuffling to meet him halfway. She kissed the ridge of his collar bone, the underside of his chin.

"I love you," she echoed.

Inuyasha was the last to fall asleep. After precious hours of passionate kissing, nervous laughter, explorative touching, and many more confessions of love, Kagome had drifted off to sleep against him, half on top of him her smooth body pressed intimately against every possible inch of skin. Inuyasha watched the top of her head, overcome by how happy she'd made him. Not just in this night, but every other night before that, dating even back to when he supposedly 'hated' her. She'd always been in his head in some way. She'd always had his heart, or knew that she would have it, he realized. She probably knew it as well; he'd just had to figure it out.

It was with a muscle straining smile and a slight bounce in his step that Inuyasha leaped over the wooden fence that separated his backyard from the rest of the block. Ducking past the windows with shades at half-mast, he scaled the side of his house with practiced ease and dipped into his partially cracked window, prying it open with his claws. He shivered against the cold that had spilled into his room upon his absence and dumped his boots in the corner, quickly shedding his clothes and stuffing them into the depths of his closet. He made a note to wash those thoroughly when he next got the chance.

A heady, giddy feeling rushed through him and he beamed to no one but himself. He'd been reluctant to leave his little heaven only to face his personal hell, but it couldn't be helped. He hadn't cleaned an inch of the house, and he had a lot of work to do to keep his father placated. So, he'd bid Kagome and her family goodbye and headed out.

He sifted through the dirty laundry in the bottom of his closet and pulled out some grubby sweats in which to work. He tied his hair back with an elastic and stepped out of his room, ready to work quickly and get the job done with.

He reached the bottom of the stairs, and froze at what greeted him.

"So you're back."

Author's Notes:

Wooh! Is it steamy in here, or what? Sorry, I just _can't_ do a lemon! Inuyasha's too innocent! (and so am I…) yeah, no mention of danglies here…

What'd you think? I think I'm a bit out of practice, that's why the Gamyuo part was rough (I wrote that first) but I think I eased back into my flow. I am once again a well-oiled machine!

Review!

Wowzer313


	23. With No Other Choice

* * *

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, Rumiko Takahashi does. 

Author's Notes:

Happy Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. Day!

Okay, chap. 23. I'm sorry about the cliffhanger—I had to! It was a good place to end and…and I was tired of typing. LOL. Anyway. Enjoy!

**Chapter 23:** With No Other Choice

"So you're back."

Inuyasha's heart leapt into his throat, and the air rushed out of him. Sesshomaru cocked a thin eyebrow as he awaited a response.

"S-Sesshomaru?" Inuyasha gaped. "Wh-what are you doing he—"

"Just checking up on you," he interrupted. "Apparently Father was a bit worried about you when he left the other night. He asked if I would be so kind as to drop by and check on you." Sesshomaru eyed Inuyasha disdainfully, as though he had the upper hand. Inuyasha was horrified to admit that right then, he did. "Imagine my surprise when I arrive and find that you're not here."

Inuyasha's head was spinning, his mind racing at a hundred miles per hour, trying to calculate the exact right move. Every word was monumental at this point. Every word was crucial to how this ended. 'What do I say, what do I say, what do I say?' he panicked.

"Tell me. Where have you been?" Sesshomaru asked. Inuyasha couldn't speak. He couldn't move. He could scarcely breathe. 'I am in so. Much. Trouble,' he thought with dread almost suffocating in its magnitude. How had he missed Sesshomaru's scent? Even if he'd caught it, it wouldn't have mattered. Sesshomaru would have caught him coming into the house, and he'd still be in the same situation.

"I'm waiting," Sesshomaru prompted.

"I…I was…um—"

"I'd choose my words wisely if I were you," the older demon warned casually. He leaned against the wall, his arms crossed. Inuyasha was beginning to panic. It didn't seem as though his father was around, but Sesshomaru surely couldn't be trusted either. He had to lie.

"I was at the library," he said, trying to keep his voice from wavering. "D-doing a project. I went through the window because I don't have a key and I didn't want to leave the door unlocked," he explained.

"So you left a window open," Sesshomaru stated in a deadpan voice, as though Inuyasha were an idiot.

"I closed it most of the wa—"

"If you were truly at the library, which I highly doubt," Sesshomaru posed, stepping closer to the unsettled youth, "then why do you have the scent of a human female all over you?" A horribly thick and nauseous feeling overtook Inuyasha in that moment, and he felt as though he might vomit. He was caught, and he knew it. Even still…he had to try.

"It's a…the project, you see, it's…it's a partner project. We…we have partners—the whole class does. And m-my partner is a girl, so—"

"Is that so?" Sesshomaru asked. Inuyasha's words screeched to a halt, and he jerkily nodded. Sesshomaru nodded contemplatively, his lips pressed into a thin line. 'Please, Kami, please,' Inuyasha prayed fervently. 'Please don't let him catch me. Please, _please_ just let me off the hook. Just this once, please.'

"It's interesting," the older demon began, walking closer to his younger brother. "It's interesting that you would say that this girl is your partner for a school project." Sesshomaru's intensely piercing gaze shot through Inuyasha, laden with accusation. "Do you regularly get intimate with school-assigned partners?" he asked, his tone more innocent than the question made him out to be. Inuyasha's heart fell into his stomach as though through a trapdoor, and he gulped audibly.

"You're caught, you see. Because even if the scent of her arousal and yours had faded from you, the bruise on your neck has not," Sesshomaru pointed out, motioning at the boy's neck. Inuyasha reddened horribly, a hand flying up to cover the love mark he'd forgotten was there, just under his jaw. Apparently Kagome had gotten a bit carried away whilst he was carried away himself, lavishing her with attention in return. He knew he'd probably left a few of the same marks on her neck as well—but the one she'd left on him was likely to get him killed. "You care to explain that? Is that courtesy of your little project partner as well?"

"I…I didn't—"

"Don't lie to me, hanyou," Sesshomaru sneered, his upper lip lifting slightly. "Don't you dare make a move to lie to me. You insult my intelligence and undermine my authority when you do."

"P-please…please don't tell Dad," Inuyasha begged, trying another course of action. He wasn't foolish enough to believe that pleading would sway his stone-like older brother. The man was practically moving granite, especially when it came to him, and Inuyasha had always been painfully aware of the fact that Sesshomaru found him to be nothing more than a nuisance and an embarrassment. There was absolutely no precedence for the older demon to give him any leeway, and even still, he was desperate to try.

"You mean to tell me that he does not already know?" Sesshomaru asked, his interest piqued, as though he were almost surprised.

"N-no. No, he doesn't, and he can't. H-he can't know, Sesshomaru—"

"And why not?" the older demon countered. "I think he deserves to know what goes on with you just as much as anyone. Especially since you apparently aren't where you're supposed to be when you're supposed to be there."

Sesshomaru shook his head, as though he were disappointed in him. Inuyasha willed himself not to feel embarrassed, not to feel ashamed, not to feel desperate to please him. 'He's never done _anything_ for you!' he screamed at himself. He stung. Sesshomaru slipped a hand inside of the blazer of his sleek eggshell white suit and pulled out a thin cell phone.

"I'm sure we'll get this entire thing straightened out now," he muttered lowly as his thumb flew over the keys. Inuyasha's eyes widened, and he didn't pause to think.

"No, please don't call him!" he shouted frantically. He recklessly launched himself at Sesshomaru, grabbing his wrist, and subsequently jostling the tiny mobile from his hand, sending it to the unforgiving and unyielding wooden floor with an ominous shatter.

Both brothers stilled in the aftermath, fury and severe annoyance roiling off of one in waves, absolutely debilitating dread crashing over the other.

"Take your filthy hands off of me," Sesshomaru commanded darkly. Inuyasha rigidly released his taut grip on the man's wrist finger by finger, his arms retracting mechanically.

"I'm…I'm sorry—" he whispered.

"Just who do you think you are, hanyou?" Sesshomaru gritted, his words clipped and fast, like a hailstorm. "Does this human have you so enthralled that you're getting confused? Forgetting your place? Is that what this is? Is that your problem as of late?"

"N-no…no, I'm…no," he mumbled, shaking his head. Thought his head was bowed, he could feel the forcible penetration of Sesshomaru's piercing glare drilling into the top of his skull like a jackhammer. He shivered, as he could imagine the mask of cold fury that covered the man's face without even glancing.

"You would do well," he started "to remember that at the end of the day, that human girl is not who you answer to. Do you understand that?"

"Yes," he responded automatically, almost falling into the mold of adding 'Sir' on the end.

"Father is already disappointed in you enough. And you would dare to bring more misfortune upon yourself. I hope he deals you a swift and adequate punishment. Foolish boy," Sesshomaru spat. He turned for the kitchen.

"Sesshomaru?" Inuyasha tried tentatively. The man was furious beyond all belief, and most likely impervious to anything he had to say, but he was desperate to try.

"What."

Inuyasha's mind scrambled for a moment. He could try the emotional appeal. He could tell his brother the truth about what went on at the residence when he was away. He could tell him hundreds of stories about the way their father beat and bloodied him daily, left him sore and aching and half mad with pain. He could…he could…the odds were not in his favor. Emotion did not work with Sesshomaru. Pleading and begging and earnestness would not work with Sesshomaru. Inuyasha supposed that if he even dared to tell the truth that Sesshomaru would simply not care, perhaps even deem the punishment well and proper for a monster such as himself. And that thought terrified him.

He could try logic. That was the only way that he could possibly conceive to win Sesshomaru over to his cause. But what to say? What irrefutable case could he state that Sesshomaru would find even remotely worth believing? He was coming up on empty. He'd try a stab in the dark.

"If…I'm just asking you…to please, _please_ not tell. If…if you tell Dad…he…he'll take her away from me. He'll make sure I never leave the house…he won't ever let me see her again."

Inuyasha internally shook his head. He'd just started talking, unsure of exactly what his appeal would be, unaware that that particular statement would come out. _That_ was certainly not going to earn the promise of Sesshomaru's confidence. But in truth, it was the only thing he cared about. If Sesshomaru told his father, and he could be assured that the only punishment he'd incur was a beating, then he'd risk it. He would risk his father knowing about his secret rendezvous. It was only because of the fact that he _knew_ that if his secret was discovered, he'd never have the opportunity to see Kagome again that he begged now…

"Perhaps that is for the best," Sesshomaru said flatly. His chin jerked in the direction of the shattered cell phone. "Clean it up. Quickly."

* * *

He'd formulated a plan. It was dangerous, terrifying, and quite possibly one of the dumbest things he'd ever resigned himself to do, but desperation had forced his innate sense of caution to the recesses of his mind. As he tremblingly picked up the broken fragments of Sesshomaru's cell phone, his mind ran in circles. Suddenly, quicker than he was prepared for, everything was on the line. Every wonderful thing that had he'd haphazardly stumbled upon throughout the course of the last year and a half was in jeopardy, and Inuyasha was struggling to keep his tenuous grip. Sesshomaru was going to tell. That was an unarguable fact that he had to come to terms with. Whether it was now or later, he couldn't say, but the fact of the matter was that it _would_ without a doubt happen. And when the axe was ready to fall, Inuyasha decided that he would be more than prepared to make his getaway. 

His eyes flicked anxiously over the crowd of students that piled through the door of his second hour class. 'Where is she? Come on, where _are_ you?" he thought, his leg bouncing agitatedly underneath his desk, perfectly in tune with his galloping heart. It had been an uneasy morning—an uneventful and clean morning. Inuyasha had managed to choke down his soggy cereal as his father and brother chatted casually over some of the take-out breakfast Sesshomaru had bought for them. Inuyasha's eyes darted between the two demons as they ate and talked, wary of letting his glance fall away. So uneasy was he that he was unable to even enjoy his cereal—it was so rare that his father allowed him to enjoy the luxury of breakfast. It was only another red flag for him.

He'd pushed away from the table after he'd finished, brushed his teeth, and grabbed his bookbag to leave for school.

"Have a nice day, Inuyasha."

The boy stood stock still, jerking to an abrupt halt at the surprisingly gentle and easy words. He turned mechanically to gape at the man standing in the doorway of the kitchen, a hand causally tossed up in farewell. Inuyasha waited. That couldn't be it. That couldn't _possibly_ be it. He waited for the customary clamp of a large paw on his shoulder, the strong yank on the collar of his shirt, a pull on his hair or a light smack to the jaw, just to remind him who he belonged to, just to keep him in line. It didn't come.

"Straight home, yes?" his father prompted. Sesshomaru had joined the man at the doorjamb, looking easily over his shoulder to affront Inuyasha with his deceptively calm gaze. Inuyasha shrunk back unconsciously, feeling as though he were in front of a firing squad.

He was too shocked and paralyzed with confused fear to say anything. Rushing out of the house, he almost slammed the door behind him, and paused for a few seconds, expecting a very ticked off dog demon to come barreling through the door to scream at him. That didn't come either.

Inuyasha was no fool. Something was coming. He could feel in with every square inch of his skin, smell it with every breath he took. He was shaken to the core.

Finally, he saw her, seeming to be swept along in the current of students rushing to beat the bell.

"Kagome!" he hissed, giving her a desperate look. Her eyes snapped to him instinctually before narrowing the tiniest bit and pointedly looking away as she slid into her desk.

"Kagome, I—"

"Jerk," she whispered harshly. "What's wrong with you, huh? Did you completely forget we had plans? I mean, I get it if you can't show, but you could have at least _called._ I was worried _sick_, Inuyasha! I thought—Kami, I thought almost every horrible thought there was! And you tell me I can't call _you_, so I was freaking out! I thought your dad might have finally _completely_ snapped and—"

"That's what I'm trying to _tell_ you, Kagome! I am in deep shit!" he blurted, interrupting her. He shot an edgy glance to the front of the classroom, where the teacher had given them a sternly disapproving look as he shuffled aimlessly through his papers. Her severely annoyed expression gave way immediately to anxious concern, her brow wrinkling prettily, he couldn't help but notice.

"What's wrong? What happened?"

"I got caught," he said briefly, the statement hardly needing any clarification. The most absolute and profound look of horror spread across her features, her eyes widening, mouth falling open.

"Oh…oh, Kami…" she moaned softly. "But…but _how_? You—you've never been…I mean, you're always careful—"

"It wasn't my dad. It was Sesshomaru," he amended, raking an exasperated hand through his hair. "I had no idea he was even gonna be there—he's never there. I didn't smell him or hear him or anything. But…he…he smelled you on me, and he was pissed. I just…shit. I don't…even know…" he trailed off, shaking his head, the worry that had developed that day ever present, even now.

"Inuyasha…Inuyasha, I'm so sorry! Oh, Kami, I'm so sorry—"

"Kagome, it's not your fault—"

"But…you said he smelled me on y—"

"Kagome. Don't. I wouldn't…I wouldn't trade what we did that night for…for anything," he told her earnestly. "Besides…even…even if he hadn't caught your scent…he would've found out anyway. He still would've been there when I got back…" he mumbled.

"Does your dad know? Has Sesshomaru told him?" she pressed.

"Quiet back there, you two!" Mr. Akimoto growled. The pair instantly quieted, only for a moment.

"No…I don't think so," he whispered. "I mean, I'm pretty sure if he told, I'd be a fucking bloody pulp right now, so I don't think he has," Inuyasha reasoned. "But he still could. Any time he wants to…and he will. Sesshomaru will…he doesn't give a fuck about me."

"Maybe if you tried to reason with him—"

"That won't _work_ with Sesshomaru. If you've ever met him—consider yourself fortunate you haven't—he's…he's like walking granite. He doesn't give a shit about anyone, especially not me." Inuyasha sighed, staring unseeingly at his open notebook. "Anyway…I don't…I don't want to do this anymore," he whispered almost silently.

Kagome couldn't mask the shock that dropped heavily over her face at his abrupt words, nor could she ignore the sour taste they left in her mouth. She stared unashamedly at the side of his face, Mr. Akimoto's economics lesson falling on deaf ears as a mindless drone in the background.

"What?" she asked in a small voice. Surely she'd misheard…

"I don't want to do this anymore, Kagome," he repeated a bit louder, looking back at her this time. Her heart ached, as he seemed to silently plead with her to understand. She would try, but…where had this come from? Hadn't they just been so incredibly close not even a week ago? Hadn't they admitted they loved each other? Hadn't he given her his mother's ring? She embarrassedly twisted the tiny circle around her finger and tucked her hand into a fist, so that the jewels were hidden against her palm. Had she known he had this in mind so soon after, she wouldn't have…"I'm so…I'm so sick of it—"

"Will you _shut up_?" a girl hissed, whipping around to glare at them. Inuyasha bit his tongue to restrain the 'fuck off' he'd been ready to deliver. His body was stiff and rigid with tense energy, his hands tightly gripping the edges of the desk. "Some of us are trying to _learn_."

He pointedly looked away, taking a deep breath, and starting over. "I'm so sick of…of being terrified every fucking day—of holding my breath every time I step out of my room—"

"Chikamatsu!" Mr. Akimoto reprimanded sharply, jerking both of the teens' attention forward. "Since you so stubbornly refuse to direct your attention to my lecture now, perhaps you can find a way to channel it while you sit for an hour after school. Detention," he said briskly, his feathers ruffled.

Inuyasha slumped, going boneless against the seat as the man waddled down the narrow aisle of desks to hand him the yellow slip.

"See?" he murmured weakly, shoving the slip of paper to the corner of the desk with vehemence. "Now…now it's gonna be even worse…I'm supposed to come straight home…now it'll just be worse…"

"I don't think…" Kagome began slowly. "I don't think you have to do what you're planning to do—"

"I do!" he insisted, leaning towards her. "I just…I don't think I can take it anymore. I mean, I thought I could. And I know I told you I could. I thought I could wait until graduation, but….but I don't think I can anymore. Not with all this lately…I…I want to get out. I don't want to have to…to…_dread_ everything all the time anymore."

"So what are you saying?" she pressed, bracing herself. Inuyasha would be the type to do something like this; to let what they had go when he didn't have to just yet. She only wished…

"So I'm saying…" he began. He hesitated and shot her a sheepish, half skittish look. "So I'm saying that if the offer's still there…I wanna…I wanna take it."

"Huh? What offer?" Kagome asked, too confused to be relieved at the absence of the break up she'd been expecting.

"I know it was a really long time ago. But…but I was hoping that…maybe I could still…you know. Stay. With you," he mumbled embarrassedly.

He felt absolutely awful asking that of her. Kagome loved him. He believed her with everything in him. And she was kind-hearted. She'd been the one to offer in the first place, and he was almost sure she wouldn't turn him down. But if he was perfectly honest with himself, he knew that she didn't know what she was getting into. All she would think about was the fact that she was helping her boyfriend. Heck, even saving his life once more. Inuyasha, however was all too familiar with the consequences that came with harboring a hanyou.

He'd thought about that as he'd made his final decision to seek asylum with Kagome and her family. He'd thought about his mother and the sacrifice she'd made, simply to keep him safe. 'History repeats itself,' the old proverb went. He planned to make it his business to prove that statement wrong.

He couldn't bear to live with himself if he brought that kind of misfortune down upon the Higurashi family. Yet at the same time…they were his sanctuary. Kagome was his refuge. She would keep him safe, and he knew that. She would keep him safe from the stuff of his nightmares, and in turn, he made a vow to that he would keep her safe from the realities that were always too close.

"You…you want to stay with me?" she whispered, disbelieving.

"If you say no…I totally underst—"

Kagome's shoulders drooped with relief, the edgy tension rushing out of them, and she slapped a hand to her face, almost embarrassed that her mind had traveled down that path. She shook her head at her own foolishness and dropped her hand, smiling shakily at him. She decided that he didn't need to know the silly thoughts that had been running rampant through her head. Right now, he needed her to be as strong as she'd been before.

"Inuyasha…of course you can. You…you've _always_ been welcome," she reminded him. His own features sagged with relief, though the dark worry never left.

"I'm so glad you said yes," he whispered. "It's building, Kagome. I can feel it. It's just…getting worse. He's gonna make this time so bad…And I just wanna get out."

"We'll call my mom at lunch, okay? We'll…we'll work it out, okay? I promise you."

"Can we do it soon?" he asked. "Can we make it happen soon? 'Cause I'm scared," he admitted, looking at her, worry, anxiety, and exhaustion penetrating her.

Discreetly as she could, she kissed her thumb and held out the hand across the aisle. He slipped his palm into hers as she pressed the kiss onto the back of his hand, just under his index knuckle.

"Don't be scared," she whispered. "You don't have to be scared when you're going to finally be safe. Finally."

* * *

Inuyasha leaned his head against the window of the bus with a heavy sigh, running through what he was supposed to do for the umpteenth time. It had all happened so fast…he needed to wrap his head around it all. 

Kagome had called her mother immediately after second hour was over, relaying the matter at hand to the woman, editing what exactly had caused Sesshomaru to smell her scent on Inuyasha. Inuyasha anxiously listened to both ends of the conversation, biting his lip as Kagome tightly held his fingers, her thumb rubbing over his knuckles repeatedly. He hadn't been expecting Mrs. Higurashi to make plans to meet with them on their lunch hour.

The pair headed off campus during their fifth hour to eat out, as so many of Daisuke's other students did, quickly ducking into one of the less popular choices of restaurants to meet Kagome's mother.

She'd waved from a corner table, more secluded than the rest, standing quickly to receive them. She kissed Kagome's temple and embraced her tightly. He hadn't been expecting her to embrace him as well, and he shook as she patted his back reassuringly.

"Don't you worry about a thing, Sweetheart," she murmured. "It'll be alright, understand? It'll all work out."

He sighed again. His hands were clamming up. The bus was nearing his stop, an hour and a half late. Surely his father would be furious. Inuyasha had the sinking feeling that the demon would brush it off nonchalantly, as though he hadn't a care in the world. He'd been doing that lately, and while it made for a calm and collected façade, there was no mistaking the menace behind his tone, the warning in his words, and the imminent danger that lurked far too close.

"You're sure you don't want to bring this to the police?" Mrs. Higurashi had asked him, reaching across the table and around his untouched plate to put a hand on his. "They could lock him up for what he's been doing to you."

"I'm sure," he nodded. "I just think…that if I go to the police, they won't do anything. Nothing that'll help, anyway. They'll do some superficial investigation, but not really care, you know? And then…then it'll just be even worse, 'cause he'll know I told…I just think if I can just…just slip away, it'll be better. I just wanna get out now."

"Under the radar it is," she agreed with finality. "It's a very brave thing you're doing," she told him earnestly.

Inuyasha didn't feel brave. He felt like a quivering pile of jelly. He felt like he was going to fall apart at the seams.

The bus lurched to a stop, and the air brakes hissed as the folding door clapped open. Inuyasha shrugged into his bookbag, which seemed heavier than it had a few hours ago, and got off of the bus. Three blocks. Three blocks, and he'd be in front of his house. Four steps and he'd be on the porch, at the door. Twenty-seven feet and he'd be at the stairs. Twelve stairs and he'd be near his room.

There, he was to fold his clothes in the corner of his closet, as discreetly as physically possible. He was to sneak his toothbrush out of the bathroom and slip it into a pocket in his bookbag. He was to stuff as many clothes into the bag as could fit.

He was to cook dinner and serve his father as though everything were normal. He was to clean the dishes afterwards and pour him a drink in the living room as though nothing was unusual. He was to be silent.

He was to wait until the house was still, and all he could hear was the sound of his own breathing, and his father's drunken, raucous snores. Then, when his heartbeat had quieted to just under thundering and his limbs were loosed from their paralytic hold, he was to steal into the kitchen, and make his escape through the window above the sink, or whichever window presented itself before the inevitable terror overtook his ability to move. He was then to run as fast as he could, as quietly as he could to the grocery store right off of the service drive near his house. It would be closed and dark and empty. Kagome would be waiting for him in her car, the only vehicle in the parking lot. She would be there, waiting until he came, however long that took. He was to try, if at all possible, to be prompt.

And then? And then he'd be home free. Ideally. Then he could let loose the breath that he'd have been holding for an impossible amount of time. Then he allow the tremors that would have been rocking his hands to die down, and allow his heartbeat to slow to a pace just slightly under galloping. Then he could let relief and joy and hope and the choked sobs of emancipation wash over him with their undoubtedly torrential force.

Mrs. Higurashi hadn't said all of that. Kagome hadn't said all of that. They hadn't told him any one way to make it out of the house. All they'd told him was where to meet Kagome, to be careful and to stay quiet. They'd given him no substantial advice at all. No tips on a route to take. How could they? They weren't fully aware of the capabilities his father possessed, of the breakneck speed, the rooting sense of smell, the finely attuned hearing. They could give him no guidance on how to escape, and it would have been foolish if they had. And so, Inuyasha mapped his escape route in his mind over and over and over again, each time changing minute facets of the plan, while his doom-filled imagination supplied unwanted details; a creak in a floorboard, a squeaky hinge on a door. A trickle of nervous sweat coursing down his temple and tickling his father's nose, alerting him.

It occurred to him that the strength of his father's drink of choice tonight would be directly proportional to the likelihood of his escape.

He'd reached the house. It loomed before him, seeming to be larger and more ominous than ever, a testament to the Sisyphean task it would be to flee from it.

'Everything is normal. Everything is fine. Nothing is out of the ordinary. You are going to make it,' he chanted to himself like a mantra.

It was one of the few times, Inuyasha felt, he was terrible at lying.

* * *

Author's Notes: 

I know, it's short, I'm sorry. But I can guarantee that the next few won't be.

I really don't have much to say for once…hm. Hopefully you do!

Review!

Wowzer313


	24. A Forced Hand

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, Rumiko Takahashi does.

Author's Notes:

Warning—Violence ahead (For the more sensitive readers out there.)

This story will have two endings. Why? Because, well…I just wanted it to.

Enjoy!—again, I'm not entirely sure that's the right word….

**Chapter 24:** A Forced Hand (Ending 1)

The clothes flattened momentarily before fluffing back up—_again_. A hand splayed widely on the stack of shirts that had seen better days, pulling the canvas of the bag up forcefully. Two claws pushed through the bag's edge with a dull rip.

"Shit," he whispered, pulling his nails out of the sizeable holes they'd made. He sighed softly, exasperatedly, blowing a wayward wisp of hair out of his face before giving up and zippering the bulging backpack shut with finality. The black bag bulged, making the zipper pucker, and Inuyasha wondered if it would pop open—most likely at the most inopportune moment.

He glanced around the sparse room—now even more bare with the lack of the odd article of clothing floating about. He wouldn't miss it. He probably would not even think about it ever again, save for the wayward thought or two. He would never think about this house again, or its lack of furnishings, and warmth, and love. If it ever did happen across his mind, it would be accompanied with nothing but nausea, a grimace, and a shudder.

His internal clock sounded, alerting him to leave the paltry sanctity of his room and head downstairs to cook his father's last meal.

Inuyasha skirted around the wall adjacent to the living room, wary eyes glued to the silent demon on the couch before him. The television, muted, flicked an array of colors over the pale man's face and hair, and bathed the room in a bluish glow. 'Why is he watching the TV on mute?' Inuyasha thought edgily. The man stared straight ahead at the images that flittered across the screen, unmoving, unblinking. Inuyasha pulled his gaze away and edged his way into the kitchen, practically tiptoeing. There was no sense in upsetting his father before his departure.

He set to steaming some vegetables in a wok, working with methodically, yet with hands that trembled uncontrollably. Under his breath, he murmured directions to himself that he'd followed silently countless times before; somehow he couldn't seem to stem his need for verbal direction, now.

The rice boiled, the sound of the roiling water, and his knife hitting the cutting board with every slice through the chicken breasts, the only sounds throughout the house. His ears twitched wildly, wishing for only the tiniest hint of noise—the dead calm was unnerving. He inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth to prevent hyperventilating and focused intently on placing the cubes of raw chicken formulaically into the pan to keep his mind from wandering to places unsavory. A sharp clicking broke the near-silence as the fire under the skillet ignited, the pungent tang of gas polluting the air.

"Are you going somewhere?"

Inuyasha just barely managed to stop his knee jerk reaction to jolt in surprise to the low rumble of a question. He set the spatula down beside the stove and turned around. His father stood, seemingly casual, in the doorjamb that connected the kitchen to the outer hallway. He leaned against the frame, regarding the boy with a placid look.

"No," Inuyasha said, clearing his throat. The man raised an eyebrow, akin to the very look Sesshomaru had given him during his interrogation those few days ago.

"No? You're not?" he asked. Inuyasha shook his head. "You're sure?"

"I'm s-s-sure. I'm…I'm not g-going anywhere," he stammered.

"Of course you aren't," he agreed, the tiniest hint of a seething bite seeping into his voice. "Because you would_ never_ do something so incredibly _stupid_ as to try to leave, _would_ you, Inuyasha?" he pressed. He stepped forward, and Inuyasha saw that his arm was bent behind his back. Did he have a weapon?

"N-n-no—"

"You'd never be so stupid to try and run _away_ would you, Inuyasha?" he growled, coming closer to the boy. Inuyasha cringed, and instinctively backed up. His back was pressed flush against the stove. He groped behind him on the counter for some type of weapon of his own—something, anything, under the guise of steadying himself. His fingers fell upon a long smooth object with a knob at the end. The knife he'd just used to cut the chicken.

"No, Sir, I wou—"

"But you _would _be so _stupid_ as to sneak around with some little whore behind my back. _Wouldn't _you, Inuyasha?" he bellowed, now impossibly close. Inuyasha shrank back, absolutely positive that his father could smell the pungency of his fear. He himself was drowning in the sharp, sour tang of terror that he was emitting. His fingers curled tightly around the handle. As much as he wanted to defend Kagome's honor, his anger and desire to retort was overridden by his terror.

"_Answer me_, you fucking idiot!" Inutaishou roared. The man's face split into a horrid mask, his nostrils flared and brows meeting lowly. "That's what you do? The minute I turn my back, you're out of the house?"

"I didn't mean to upset you!" Inuyasha cried finally. His chest heaved, and his heart knocked against his ribs so hard that it hurt. "I wasn't trying to…I didn't mean—I didn't think—"

"Damn right you didn't think. You _never_ think," the man spat. His arm dashed up quickly, and Inuyasha flinched, thinking a blow was coming. His father held up his bulging backpack, a small corner of a t-shirt poking through the edge of the zipper. He whipped the bag around, slamming it into the cabinets by Inuyasha's head, making him recoil. The cabinets clattered noisily, and one splintered with the force. "Were you honestly _dumb_ enough to believe that you wouldn't get caught?" Inuyasha pressed further into the unyielding counter's edge with every sharp word the man shouted, his ears pressing flat against his head against the raucous noise.

"I—"

"Where are you going, Inuyasha? Hm? Where you runnin' to?" Inuyasha didn't answer. He wasn't sure how to proceed; some questions seemed rhetorical while others did not, and he knew that answering the rhetorical ones would only incite more anger in the man. "Are you deaf? Where the _fuck_ do you think you're running to? Hm?" His eyes were piercing a hole through the cringing boy.

"S-s-someplace better," he answered waveringly. Inutaishou paused at that, before straightening his posture, a slightly amused and disbelieving look overcoming his features.

"Someplace better," he repeated. "Someplace better. Huh." He seemed to be mulling over the answer a great deal, his tongue running over his teeth contemplatively. Inuyasha regarded him warily, still secretly clutching the knife behind his back. "And let me just ask…what 'better' place do you think _you_ have coming, half-breed? Huh? What 'better' place is out there for _you_?"

"I'm—"

"And if there is such a place," he continued. "What makes you think you deserve it?"

"A lot!" Inuyasha shouted, finally. He still shrank back from the man, but his hand flipped the knife into a more readily accessible position.

"Hm. Like what?" Inutaishou prompted, a lazy, smug smile on his lips. Inuyasha fumed. How dare he? How dare he _laugh _when Inuyasha was so incredibly terrified? When he was so close to escape, when he was so close to being free of his tyrannical hold, how dare he _smile_?

"Don't do that!" he gritted through clenched teeth. "Don't—don't talk down to me! Not…not any more. I…I _do_ deserve better! I…I deserve…more than this—I don't deserve to get hit every day—"

"You don't? Who says? You're nothing but a half-breed—a worthless, spineless, little freak—an accident. What are you worth?"

"I'm…more than that…" Inuyasha muttered, his brief moment of bravado quickly fading at the man's words. "I'm a lot more than that—I'm better than that," he managed, his voice cracking.

"Really? You are? And who put that bullshit in your head, hm?" Inutaishou raised an eyebrow, smirking at the boy, who'd deflated like a pierced balloon.

"S-s-s…someone who loves me," he whispered shakily. Inuyasha struggled to hold the man's calculating gaze, struggled to keep from looking down and submitting, groveling. He had no idea how he was going to get away anymore—it didn't look promising. Even drunk off of his rear, his father had the advantage in every other category, and Inuyasha felt so small and weak. Even drunk now, the man was managing to intimidate him into oblivion—he admitted to himself breathlessly that his chances looked bleak, and that there was no way he was getting out of that house.

Before he could draw his next breath, Inutaishou's hands shot out like bullets from a gun and wrapped themselves around Inuyasha's neck. He roughly yanked the boy forward and to the left, slamming him into the cool face of the refrigerator. Papers stuck to the surface fluttered from the disturbed rush of air, and Inuyasha gasped at the force with which his back hit the appliance.

"Someone who loves you, huh? Who, that little whore of a human girl? What is she stupid?" Inutaishou spat nastily, his face a scant few inches from his son's. "Or can she not see what you really are, huh?" While his grip was firm, it was not cutting off Inuyasha's air supply enough to have him choking. His eyes clenched shut and he struggled, quite aware of the razor-like claws that had grown a few millimeters in the preceding seconds; his father's eyes bled at the edges into a frighteningly bright shade of tanager red, the graceful blue lines that crested his cheekbones growing jagged and sharp.

"She gonna save you now? Is she coming? Is she here for you, Inuyasha? You gonna run to her now?"

"Please…please…" Inuyasha whimpered almost silently. He would appeal to his father's sense of selfishness; perhaps he could reason with the unreasonable—perhaps he could catch a break, a tiny break. "You…you could let me g-go—you could t-t-turn your b-back f-for five s-s-seconds and I'd b-b-be gone!" he cried desperately. "You'd never have to see me again! Never! I promise! I know how m-much you h-h-hate me—if you'd just l-let me g-g-go, I'd be gone—o-out of your life forever, I swear!" he pleaded. He was stuttering so badly. The grip around his throat increased to the strength of vice, and he struggled to draw in air.

"Drop the knife, boy," the man snarled. Inuyasha didn't even realize the object was still clenched in his fist. He thought he'd dropped it in his rough transfer from the counter to the fridge, as he'd heard _something _clatter. It took him consciously feeling down to his left hand to realize that it was still there. He felt a tiny spark of hope.

"L-let…me go," he choked out. "Pl-please…let…me go."

To his great surprise, Inutaishou gave him a long, hard, slightly wavering glare before retracting his fingers, one by one, from around his neck. Inuyasha took a deep, shuddering breath as soon as he was able, and vaguely felt the tiny trickles of warm blood run down his neck and into the depressions of his collarbones. He was shocked out of his mind, and it took him a moment to gather his wits. He held the knife out before him with a ramrod straight arm, however shaky.

Inutaishou stood a foot away from him now—that wasn't nearly enough.

"B-back up," he commanded shrilly, jerking the knife towards him. "To the left, too." The man did as he told him, a complacent look falling over him. Inuyasha gulped audibly, and tried to control his fear to a non-perceptible level. "And…and t-t-turn ar-around."

When Inutaishou's back was facing him, Inuyasha stumbled backwards a foot or two. He shakily regained his footing and bolted for the door, the few seconds that he was flying seeming like eternal minutes.

His fingers clumsily fumbled with the locks, slipping off of the metal and clattering against his claws. His breath had been reduced to shallow pants, hyperventilation fully setting in. He finally managed to rip the chain from its bolt and turn the lever-lock, twisting the knob with adrenaline-induced force and flinging the door open.

Cold air hit him in the face, and he was suddenly very aware of the fact that he was in his pajamas, a thin t-shirt and thin cotton pants. He wore no shoes, and no socks, and he was likely to get frostbite running through the frozen, snow-covered streets. But all he could focus on was the fact that Kagome was sitting in her car not even seven blocks away, waiting for him, waiting to take him home.

He'd bolted two steps down the porch. The quickest two steps of his life. The feeling of overwhelming relief had just started to trickle over him.

A horrible burning sensation shot through his entire scalp, and he couldn't stifle the agony-filled shriek he emitted as his entire length of hair was forcefully ripped back, and his body was jerked to an abrupt halt, his back hitting hard upon the cement. The breath was knocked out of him, and he had to blink hard to clear the dancing spots from his vision.

Heat enveloped him as he was yanked up by the collar of his t-shirt and literally thrown back into the house, colliding soundly with the arm of the couch. His ears flattened quickly with the thunderous slam of the door, and he could feel the floor vibrate with the plodding of heavy footsteps. He scrambled to his feet, bumping into the arm of the couch and stumbling to the side, providing his father with the opportunity to grip his jaw tightly and lift him into the air, slamming him into the wall beside the television.

"You didn't _really_ think you'd get away from me, did you?" the demon sneered viciously, looking up at the boy he held. "Then again…you don't exactly think things through."

"Let me go! Leave me alone!" he cried, kicking wildly.

"Not a chance!" he roared. "You think you can get the best of me, boy? You think you can just run out on me? After all the shit you've caused?"

"I wouldn't be around to _cause_ any more shit if you just let me go!" Inuyasha screamed. He was still afraid. But his trembling fear had taken a backseat to the pure adrenaline-fueled terror he was pumped full of now. He struggled wildly, his head thrashing from side to side. "Let me go you bastard! Let me go, I fucking _hate_ you! I hate you, let me go!" he cried.

"You insignificant little fuck!" Inutaishou roared back. The far recesses of his mind whispered to him. Inuyasha's eyes darted to the closed door, its locks already undone. Ten feet. It wasn't that far. And yet, it was a world away. Could he make it?

Putting as much force as he could muster into it, Inuyasha swung his arm in an arc, and slashed the knife, sticky and gummy with chicken residue, across his father's face, from his right temple, and down to the left side of his chin.

A tiny corner of Inuyasha's panic-stricken mind managed to feel a bit of triumph at the sight of his father's face—bloody for once instead of his own. His eye was gouged, that much he could see, and Inuyasha hoped the eye would never see again. He longed to take another stab at him, two more times, three more times, unstopping until he felt sated. But there was no time for that.

He had to live.

* * *

Kagome was scared. She didn't think she'd ever felt so afraid in her life as she did right then. She'd decided right away against parking in the lot of the grocery store. The light of day was fading, and the parking lot was growing dark and shadowy and intimidating. She opted for the well-lit gas station across the street with the kindly-looking attendant standing at the register. At least that place had a steady flow of traffic coming in and out of it. And she could see the parking lot from where she was, so when Inuyasha arrived, she'd know.

She wanted her mother. She'd wanted the woman to come with her, but understood the tumult of preparations that she had to take care of at home. She'd wanted anyone, really, to be there with her in the car.

She'd thought about asking Miroku or Sango to accompany her. If it hadn't been a school night, she might have called one or both of them. But then, she reasoned, she'd have to give a reason as to _why_ they were hanging about a gas station at night, waiting for Inuyasha. He didn't want them to know. He hadn't wanted _her_ to know. And in no way was she about to betray his confidence. She knew how embarrassed he was about the whole situation already.

"You're sure…" he'd begun, mumbling unintelligibly and ashamed.

"Sure what?" she'd pushed. Her mother leaned forward on her elbows across the table to catch his murmured response.

"You're sure I won't be…a burden?" he mumbled.

"Honey," Mrs. Higurashi soothed, placing her hand atop his. "It's no trouble, I promise you. The only trouble is in you staying where you are. Don't you worry about anything," she assured him.

One look at his face had told Kagome he wasn't all that assured. He'd insisted on going back to get his clothes and other belongings, against Kagome's adamant protests that he go straight home with them. He didn't want to 'burden them any further', as he'd said. It was enough that they'd opened up their home, he'd said. He absolutely refused to allow them to purchase clothes for him.

What could she do? It wasn't as though she could pick him up and _place_ him in her car. All she could do was to give him what was probably useless advice.

Kagome shivered, and burrowed deeper into her coat, up to her nose. Despite the car's heat being cranked up to full blast, she was still freezing, and she knew it had little to do with the frigid weather. She looked at the clock on her car radio again. He'd told her that it might be a while. But he'd also told her that he would try his hardest to meet her at ten. It was already ten thirty-two. She was worried.

Another glance across the road at the parking lot told her what she already knew; he wasn't there.

"Where _are_ you, love?" she asked his absent person. "Please turn up soon. You're scaring me."

* * *

An animalistic and enraged howl erupted from the gouged demon as blood poured hotly from the wound, spilling down into his open mouth.

"You little bastard!" he raged. "I'll kill you!" But Inuyasha had slipped out of his grip, as he'd recoiled in surprise. The boy was stumbling over himself, panicked and trembling. His fingers stretched to the limits of their capacity, reaching for the doorknob.

Inutaishou whirled around, recovering quickly from the shock of the bloody wound, and in one swift leap, bounded over to the terrified boy whose hand had finally fell upon the knob, twisting it.

He lifted his foot with purpose, and brought it down heavily upon Inuyasha's ankle, deriving a sick pleasure from hearing the crunch it made, and the scream of anguish that ripped from the writhing boy. He bent forward and yanked him backwards by the knee, getting caught by the knife he waved wildly at him.

"I'm going to kill you," he growled lowly, catching the flailing wrist in one hand and snapping it without interlude, the raucous cry that followed piercing his own ears. The knife fell to the floor with a dull clatter. He slapped him soundly across the cheek, his head flying to one side. "Shut up. I'm so sick of hearing your noise." He grabbed the knife and the scruff of the boy's bangs, holding his head still. He held the blade against the thin skin of his throat, glaring at him through a bloody eye and a blood-red eye.

"Now what are you going to do, huh? You got any more little tricks? Any more moves?"

"I…I—I—p-p-please," he begged. "Please…" Tears stung his eyes and pooled over, splashing down his temples. "Please, I just wanna go, please—" A crippling blow to the belly cut off any further entreaty.

"Shut. Up," Inutaishou ordered in a voice that booked no argument. 'No, no, no, no,' Inuyasha thought. He was so close to giving up—so close to just accepting whatever was coming. 'I can't just…' He had so much to look forward to…'Kagome!' he cried out in his mind. He silently called out to her over and over and over again.

Fighting the paralysis that had momentarily overtaken him, he jerked his good arm upwards, and sunk his claws deep into the flesh of his father's hand, making him recoil and hiss in pain, the knife falling once more. He tried to hobble away, his broken ankle killing him. He vaguely heard the knife clatter away somewhere as his flesh tore from behind, the claws of a partly transformed and enraged dog demon ripping into him.

He couldn't even cry out, he was too overwhelmed by pain, and so, only a small grunt escaped him when he was pulled back onto the ground, the back of his skull connecting the corner of a small end table. A jolt of fierce tingling shot through him, and he felt weak, and strangely languid.

He succumbed to the devastating feeling of helplessness that had been hovering over him, unable to make himself care that tears fell from his eyes unchecked, or that his vision was wavering dangerously, fading in and out from oppressive black, or that his hearing was strangely muted.

He was vaguely aware that there was a long gap of time from which he could remember nothing, only that his father was waging a horribly unmatched war with his limp body, and he was powerless to stop him.

* * *

After what seemed like forever, he only became fully aware again when he heard the creaking of the door on its old hinges, and the protesting rumble of an engine. He mentally felt out to every extremity of his body, nauseous from the throbbing pain that was present everywhere, the metallic tang of blood in the air, and the pungent odor of something burning. To his disgust and chagrin, the nausea overcame him all at once, and he fought to turn his head to the side as vomit choked him up. He coughed violently, emptying the paltry contents of his stomach onto the floor, surprised at the massive pain in his throat as he did so.

His body relaxed after his choking spell, and the muscles in his neck went limp.

He was sleepy.

* * *

The little green display flicked. '10:47,' it read. 'Okay. Give him one more minute,' Kagome told herself. She'd been playing the 'One More Minute' game for the past ten, and she was getting sick of it.

"Screw this," she muttered, turning the key into the ignition. It wasn't like Inuyasha was a shining example of punctuality. He wasn't. He never had been. But the fact of the matter was that it was late, she was scared, and she wanted him there with her. Now. She knew Inuyasha's position on this; he wanted out of that house. There was no way he'd stay any longer than necessary. And that was what scared her most.

As she pulled out of the gas station in the direction of his house, she worked out her plan. She'd just drive toward his house, hoping to run into him on the way. If she didn't, she'd drive past his house, around the block once, maybe twice. Just to see if there was any activity. Anything.

Trepidation filled her gut as she drove the few blocks, not seeing a tall huddled figure on the sidewalk. She'd been hoping so much to find him somewhere along these streets…

She turned down his street, praying that at any moment, she would see him, black hoodie coated with the soft white snowflakes that fell into the quiet road, already graced with a covering. It was so silent. It made her shake.

Her stomach bottomed out as she passed his house. The door was open, a black rectangle perhaps about a foot wide boasted entry inside. 'Oh, no…' she thought. 'No. There's nothing wrong. There's _nothing_ wrong…' she murmured to herself over and over. 'He's fine. He's just _fine_, Kagome.'

She parked a few houses down, shutting her lights off and waiting, her gloved fingers crossed. She whispered a prayer. 'Come on, Inuyasha…come _on_, please.'

The stillness amplified the thunderous beating of her heart, and the dark rectangle left by the open door tempted her.

"Please be okay. Please, _please_ be okay," she whispered desperately, the tiniest hint of a sob working its way into her voice. He had to be okay. He just _had_ to be…

She got out of the car. She knew it was stupid, dangerous, reckless, and Inuyasha would probably scream her ear off for doing it, but she felt she had to. She couldn't help it. Some deeply rooted instinct was telling her…was guiding her…

There was no car in the driveway. The house had no garage, that much she knew from her previous visit. 'There shouldn't be anyone home,' she reasoned as she haltingly approached the property. Her own breathing was deafening to her, and she tried breathing through her nose.

Her hand was trembling with all the force of an epileptic seizure when she pushed the door open, the tremendous groan it gave scaring her out of her skin. The house was dark and marred with shadows from the pale glow of the moon shining through a few windows. Despite the darkness, it seemed foggy, and her eyes stung. There was an insistent beeping echoing from somewhere deep in the house.

The noxious smell of vomit and blood hit her senses, and she grappled desperately along the wall for a light. Finally hitting upon a switch, a single, bare lightbulb blinked on above her head, casting tawny shadows across the slats of wood.

She screamed. She regretted it immediately. She was sure it didn't help. Quicker than ever before, her cell phone was ripped from her pocket, and her fingers flew across the keys, dialing the number for emergency.

She wasn't even sure of what she'd said, or even if it was coherent. She didn't know if her voice was even enough for the operator to understand what she'd said, or if she'd given the street address numbers in the right order. She prayed she did; but she wasn't sure. She was fairly certain that she'd managed to communicate all of the important information: there was a boy bleeding very badly on the living room floor of his own home—he was very badly injured, and no, he wasn't moving. Was there anything else wrong? The operator wanted to know. Would she need anything other than an ambulance? The operator could hear the beeping. Kagome rushed towards the back of the house, blinking against the smoke that she could now see— the stove was ablaze—no, it was something in a skillet, flames licking viciously against the melting plastic blinds that shaded the window behind them. The kitchen was on fire too, she yelled. The fire alarm continued to beep insistently. Please, _please _bring help soon. She was terrified. Please don't let him die, she begged.

Kagome approached the prone body on the floor slowly, unable to stem the torrential flow of tears from her eyes as she scanned him. He was almost unrecognizable, his face swollen, red, and streaked with blood. Gouges marred the flesh of his back, visible to her through the torn shreds of his shirt.

She pushed aside the revulsion she felt upon looking at the puddle of vomit and blood near his head, and rushed towards him. Falling to her knees by his side, she tried to locate an undamaged area that she could nudge. Pressing her fingers just under the curve of his jaw, she almost wept at the feel of a faint, but distinct pulse.

Afraid to hurt him, yet wanting to relieve him of the hard floor, she pulled him into her lap, gently as she could. She shrugged out of her coat, draping it over his almost naked upper half. His body was limp and heavy in her arms, sticky with blood and plastered with his own hair. She sobbed, cradling him against her securely, and tucking the thick jacket down around his chilled flesh.

His head lolled back, and she reached under it to support it with her forearm. She almost vomited herself when her fingers came back sticky with thick blood. She trembled all over, wiping her fingers on her jeans and tenderly brushing his matted bangs from his pale face.

"Help is coming," she whispered tremulously. "Please just hold on for a little longer. Help is coming."

Kagome gasped, relief flooding her like a tidal wave when his eyelids twitched, slowly cracking at intermittent periods. He looked up at her for a moment as though he had no idea who she was, through bleary golden eyes.

"Inuyasha," she murmured tearfully. He continued to stare at her, his brow wrinkling slightly, then he smiled weakly, his chapped lips jerking to one side a bit.

"Ah…al…almost," he rasped, barely audible even above the stillness of the room. Kagome's tears doubled in their intensity and number, and she was almost choking with the force of them. Almost…it covered so many things. He'd almost made it out unscathed. He'd almost attained his freedom. She'd almost reached him in time.

"No!" she shouted, regretting it yet again. She found she was unable to help the volume of her impassioned cry, however. "No, Inuyasha, don't say that! Don't you _say_ that!" she rebuked sharply. His gaze had dulled, though he still kept his eyes focused on her. "Help…help is coming, alright? I promise you, help is coming, Inuyasha! An ambulance is on its way right now, okay? Okay? They're gonna hel—"

A raucous cough tore from his throat, his chest almost going through spasms. Her stomach bottomed out when she saw the flecks of blood that splattered his dry lips, a trickle of it running from the corner of his mouth when the coughing spell ceased. He was bleeding internally. Blinking through blinding tears, she pulled the cuff of her shirt down over her palm and gently blotted away the blood that dribbled from his mouth.

"I love you, okay?" she whispered. "I love you, Inuyasha. So much." Her heart felt as though it were ripping when he blinked for a long time, twin tears managing to squeeze from between the closed lids and run down his temples. She sniffled helplessly and held him close, rocking him back and forth, even when the little remaining warmth drained from him. Even when the barely perceptible rise and fall of his chest stopped. Even when the faint flutter of his heartbeat ceased to be felt.

* * *

Her nose wouldn't stop running. With a frustrated grunt, she flung yet another wad of scented tissue into the wastebasket, the tiny ball bouncing off of the others that already overflowed the small silver cylinder. Her balled fists pressed hard into the unyielding porcelain of the sink, her knuckles white, her fingertips and palms red.

"Screw the fucking mascara," she muttered to her reflection, blotchy and pale. The haggard girl that stared back at her seemed to snarl, and Kagome quickly looked away. She scrubbed at the running black goop with yet another tissue, balling it up and hurling it at the toilet needlessly. A soft knock on the door made her jump, and she pressed a hand to her racing heart.

"Kagome? Sweetheart, are you ready? Everyone's waiting," her mother called gently. Kagome fumbled with her makeup bag, stuffing the pencils and colored powders back into it and zippering it shut, shoving it into the cabinet above the toilet.

"I'll be out in a second," she responded shortly, smoothing her dress against her thighs, collecting her self with deep breaths. With a heavy sigh, she popped the lock and opened the bathroom door, relieved to be the only occupant in the hallway, her mother having gone.

Her steps measured and her pace slow, Kagome padded her way down the hallways of her home. She slipped on the black patent leather shoes waiting for her beside the doorway, and made her way outside, shivering at the brisk weather.

A small group of people milled about under the God Tree that shaded most of their backyard, their chatter low and somber. There were eight chairs. Exactly eight. One of them was for herself.

Anger filled her throat like hot bile, and she swallowed hard to keep herself from screaming. 'I shouldn't be here,' she kept saying to herself. 'I should _not_ be here! This is wrong! This is unfair!'

Tradition was thrown out of the window. For so any reasons, she was unable to give him the proper rites he deserved. She couldn't give him a traditional Buddhist style funeral. His body couldn't be cremated and prayed over, and made sacred in the usual way. She had no idea where his body was.

The ambulance had arrived several minutes after he'd taken his last, labored and ragged breath. She was inconsolable, kneeled there on the floor, hunched over his shell and sobbing. The paramedics had had to forcer her away from him so that they could make sure that he was gone, checking his pulse and vital signs needlessly. They'd taken his body, presumably to the morgue. They'd been cruel. Unnecessarily so, she thought, telling her that only the immediate family would be made aware of the whereabouts of his body. She'd tried to tell them that his father and brother would pay them no mind—that _she_ was his immediate family. She was ignored.

She tried to remind herself that the body wasn't truly Inuyasha; that her Inuyasha was somewhere better, someplace safe. She tried to tell herself that, and believe it when she felt herself slipping into a dark place. Even still…she wanted to give him a proper farewell. He deserved at least that. She couldn't even give him that.

Instead, in their desperation to at least commemorate his all too brief life, Kagome and her mother had had to fashion a type of westernized memorial service, with no body, hardly any guests, and no idea what had happened to the boy's body in the end, no matter how many calls Kagome made to local morgues and hospitals. No matter how many calls she made to his former home, wondering if perhaps his father would tell her something. No matter hard she tried.

If that hadn't been enough, she was even unable to get a few Buddhist monks to officiate the service and pray. No monk wanted to service a makeshift funeral for a hanyou. Surely it was a disgrace and an insult to the gods to ask them to bless such a mishmash of a departure ceremony.

She looked away from the framed portrait of the smiling face she loved so much. There was no way she'd be able to make it through her brief speech if she had to look at the image of those sparkling golden eyes the entire time. She was barely standing as it was.

It had been three weeks. Three weeks since he'd departed, and yet it still seemed to fresh to her. The whirlwind of frantic yet fruitless phone calls she'd made, and the hodgepodge funeral she'd had to throw together had dizzied her, and left her in a drained state, mentally, emotionally. Three weeks of reliving that night over and over, giving the police her statement over and over, needing him more and more with each painful passing moment, yet realizing that she'd never have him again. Three weeks of a wound laying open and raw, never healing, never easing. Three weeks of feeling as though she'd hit a brick wall.

The small gathering of people followed an unspoken reply for them to be seated as she took her place at the small podium in front of the God Tree. Her breath frosted in the air before her, and her fingers clenched the edges of the podium in a vice grip as she opened her mouth to speak, leaning towards the microphone.

"G…Good afternoon," she began quietly. Her voice sounded strange; hollow, flat and tinny. "I want to…thank you all for coming. You didn't have to," she whispered.

Her eyes scanned the handful of people in attendance, nodding inwardly at those she knew she could count on to pay their respects: her mother, of course. Souta, sitting the front seat, tearful and red, her grandfather, solemn. Sango and Miroku, looking uncomfortable and confused, as though they weren't positive that what was going on was a dream. They'd had to find out…she supposed that this was the worst way. Mr. Gamyuo Oichi was there, sitting straight-backed and silent, his face stony and stern. Lastly, and most surprisingly, his older brother sat near the very close back, prim and proper, brushed, oiled and manicured. He stared at her intently as she fumbled to get her speech underway. She became flustered. His face expressionless and unreadable, he continued to brazenly stare at her, as though she were being caught in the act of committing some horrendous crime. In fact, he almost looked a bit…bored. Fury filled her mouth like hot spit, and she found herself angry enough to scream. How _dare _he stare at her like that? How dare he just…just _sit_ there? With his own little brother dead? Did he know where Inuyasha's body was? Did he even _care_? She burned; she wished she hadn't been able to get into contact with him and invite him.

Her mouth gaped open for a few moments as the small practiced speech she'd prepared flew from her head, leaving her with nothing. "I…I…I have no idea what to say…" she choked with the realization, her vision succumbing to the film of water that had arisen. "I'm so sorry…" A hand flew up to cover her mouth, and she was hot with embarrassment at having forgotten her words, prickled with anger at having to have words to say in the first place. "I'm _so_ sorry," she repeated.

Mortified and hurting, she willed her legs to move and pump, taking her away from the small gathering, ignoring the surprised and sympathetic murmurs she could catch coming from the group. Her mechanical and jerky movements didn't cease until she was beside a small copse of trees, stripped bare and dry by the winter, now twisted and dead-looking. She almost collapsed among the small gravestones, amongst rock memoirs to those ancestors long past and prayed over. She toddled over to the newest addition to the rock garden, the earth still freshly overturned from when it was laid into the ground. The dark obsidian stone gleamed dully in the gray light of the morning, the ash-colored characters that etched out his name seeming jagged and harsh to her eyes. The sweet scent of lilies wafted up to her nose from where she kneeled beside the small monument, the lilies she'd placed there herself the previous evening. She vaguely heard her grandfather apologizing for her abrupt departure, and beginning a prayer.

"I'm sorry," she apologized hoarsely to him, swiping at her nose with her bare wrist. She shivered. She wished she'd been sound of mind enough to have carried her coat with her outside. "I didn't do you justice at all. This…this damned circus act," she spat bitterly. "It's all just a joke. A sick joke." She shuffled closer to lean her left side against the stone. A farce was all it was. There was no pot of ashes buried before the headstone, the dead, matted, and yellowed grass lay untouched before her feet.

"I didn't know what to say," she whispered, her lips trembling. "In front of them…how could I really know what to say? I…I know now. I know now just what I'd say. What I'd tell them about you…" she trailed off. She allowed her head to drop against the cold stone, pressing her forehead into it as though she were pressing into his hand. "I'd tell them…I'd tell them everything wonderful. About…about how amazing you are. About how sweet and talented…and brave. It's just what I'd tell them…if I were brave enough to really get up there and talk…"

She gave a short, choked laugh, brushing away her tears as a happy thought flitted through her head. "I'd tell them how you were a comedian…even when you didn't know it, or didn't mean to be. Or about how flustered you'd always get at the littlest things…" she chuckled. "About that little ticklish spot just at the nape of your neck," she grinned letting her eyes slip shut. Images of him danced on her eyelids: his peaceful and slack expression as he slept, the shock written comically on his face at his birthday party, the secret smile he wore when they would sneak quick kisses in the alcoves of the hallways at school, the adoring look he took on when he allowed his gaze to linger on her for a while…

"Or maybe…maybe I'd just keep it all to myself…" she mused. "Maybe I'd just keep it all to myself, and…and have _you_ to myself. At least my own personal you. You would've touched so many…the way you touched me…"

"Excuse me," came a deep voice, startling Kagome out of her whisperings. She straightened up immediately, standing to face whoever had come around. The invisible montage of her peaceful reverie was broken as her eyes fell upon the perfectly polished image of his older brother, looking down at her, a slight curiosity in his eyes.

"What do you want?" she asked. If she sounded snappy, she hadn't meant to…much.

"Kagome Higurashi," he stated, eyeing her in what she felt was a snobbish appraisal. "So you're the one he risked it all for, hm? Did you convince him? Hmph. Foolish boy."

Immediately, Kagome's temper flared again, her eyes widening at his nerve.

"Ex_cuse_ me," she began hotly. "But the greater risk was in him even _being_ in that hell hole in the _first_ place, as is _clearly_ demonstrated by the reason we're both here today by his headstone," she hissed. "And furthermore, Inuyasha was _not_ foolish. I don't care who you are, brother or not, you did _not_ know him like I did, and you have _no_ right to speak about him with _anything_ less than the utmost respect."

"Is that so?" Sesshomaru asked, raising one thin eyebrow.

"Yes, that's very so," she snapped. "And if you don't like it, you can leave. You won't be missed, at least not by me."

Sesshomaru held her angry gaze for a long while before giving small, low chuckle, shaking his head.

"You're a little spitfire," he muttered under his breath. "Okay, I'll play it your way. I'll abide by your rules."

Kagome squinted at him, her hands curling into fists in her ire.

"Don't patronize me," she snapped. "I'm not—"

"Kagome," her mother called to her, hurrying over. "Are you alright, Honey? I know it was hard," she sympathized, taking Kagome into her arms in a brief hug.

"I'm okay," she lied, returning the embrace and silently thanking the woman for her impeccable sense of timing.

"Mr. Shibasawa," her mother greeted with a slight nod. "It's an honor to have you at our home," she said graciously. "I hope the headstone is to your liking? We plan to also have one erected close to his mother's burial site…perhaps you could have some input on that decision, if you wish."

"He doesn't care, Mom," Kagome said forcefully. "He doesn't even—"

"Kagome, Dear, shh," her mother whispered. "I'm sure there's no apathy where Mr. Shibasawa is concerned. I'm sure he cares."

"Of course," Sesshomaru said. Mrs. Higurashi nodded understandingly, and turned back to her daughter.

"No, Kagome, why don't you go and get some rest, hm?"

"But Mom, I didn't get to show—"

"I know, Honey. I'll handle it, alright? You go rest, okay, Sweetheart?" Kagome hesitated before nodding, and murmuring a small thanks to her mother. She gave Sesshomaru one last look before shuffling off towards the house.

"Poor girl's been running herself ragged," Mrs. Higurashi said, shaking her head as she gazed after the girl. "Forgive her if she was abrupt or rude. She's not normally like that at all. It's just that…well. They were very close, your brother and her. Very close," she explained with a sad smile.

"I can see that," Sesshomaru nodded, his eyes flicking to the headstone, then to the ground a foot in front of him. "I don't quite understand it, but I see."

Mrs. Higurashi was taken aback at the subtle jab he'd taken at the deceased boy and her daughter, and she had to force a polite and hospitable smile onto her face.

"Is there anything I can help you with? Anything I can get for you? Some food and drink perhaps?" she offered through a tight and strained visage.

"No, no, thank you. I have a flight to catch shortly anyway," he brushed off, straightening and clearing his throat.

"Oh. Then you're off? So soon?"

"It's the life of a businessman."

"Yes, yes, I see. Well…even though I know you must be in an awful rush…could I bother you for a few more minutes of your time?" she asked.

"I'm afraid I must be—"

"It won't take long. I promise."

"Oh…alright then. I suppose."

Mrs. Higurashi walked in silence as she led the tall dog demon into her home, and down the stairs into the basement. She flicked on the lights as she descended the steps, the fluorescent long bulbs blinking to life in the small anteroom in which they found themselves. She bristled a bit at the man's perusal of the room, his body language dripping with disdain and judgment.

"In here," she prompted, motioning towards a small alcove near the head of the space, packed with stacks and stacks of long rectangles. He moved towards the area, his brows creased.

"What is all this?" he asked. Mrs. Higurashi smiled softly at the man's back, nodding her satisfaction as he crouched to lift one of the stacks, the room suddenly brightening the with the brilliant array of colors that was exposed.

"It's what he loved to do," she murmured. He moved slowly, setting the canvases up and propping them against the wall as he examined each one of the stack he held. "Kagome thought you should know…she wanted you to see. He was…he was very talented, wasn't he?" she asked. Sesshomaru made no comment in response. Mrs. Higurashi moved toward a specific stack herself, pulling out a certain canvas. "She wanted you to have this," she said softly, offering the canvas to him like it was made of the most fragile glass. "She hoped…She _hopes_ you'll keep it."

Sesshomaru took the proffered piece, his eyes running over it, his mind galloping relentlessly at the break of a certain realization that he knew he was unprepared to have fifty minutes before a flight to a meeting in Hong Kong.

"I'll leave you to yourself," Mrs. Higurashi said softly, excusing herself. "If you need anything…just call."

Sesshomaru heard her footsteps quiet as she went up the stairs, and he waited until he was satisfied that she was a decent ways away to lean heavily against the wall, portrait in hand.

Sesshomaru stared down at the picture in his hands, and his own likeness seemed to swim up at him as if through a haze. His chin was propped up in his hand, between his index finger and thumb, and he was leaning on a table, staring out to somewhere…there was a slight smile tugging at his lips. Sesshomaru looked at it and looked at it until the pose, expression, and clothes he was wearing triggered his mind into a memory. He was sitting at the head table on his wedding day.

Sesshomaru frowned and threw the canvas away from him. A corner of it caught on the carpet, and it skittered to a stop, falling face down. He crossed his arms, frowning slightly, his mind a mile away.

It wasn't something he was able to readily identify with, regret. Sesshomaru had never quite felt anything so queer, so disjointed, so…humbling. He wasn't sure of how to go about getting rid of it, either, and so, he wasn't ready to go back upstairs and face the household. Would it show on his face? Would the ugly feeling break his mask?

The odd feeling only spread, did not diminish, as he thought on. There was so much, he realized, that he hadn't known about the boy. It wasn't only the hidden affinity for art that Sesshomaru realized he'd overlooked. It was everything. It was all of him. He'd overlooked, he realized, an entire person. And it was too late to do anything about it.

As a business man with a lucrative entrepreneurship going, Sesshomaru had always trained himself to examine all options, to leave no opportunities unexplored. He'd always succeeded at that. His tenacity in going after new business ventures and seeking new clients, and researching bigger, better, and more innovative ways of marketing had benefited him, his company, and his clients. He'd _always_ examined all of his options, and he'd _always_ profited from his explorations.

Yet as he stared at the overturned canvas ten feet away, and listened to the quiet, mournful murmurs overhead, he could not help but feel as though he'd overlooked or even quite possibly ignored, one thing, somewhat atypical of him. A tiny part of him nagged and beckoned; perhaps…perhaps he'd missed out on something valuable? Something worthwhile? Meaningful?

He cursed the boy. He cursed him three times, and then once more for good measure. How dare he make him think this deeply on him? How dare he cause him to dwell on things he couldn't change? How dare he cause him to realize regret?

"He was really talented," came a voice, and Sesshomaru worked to school his face back into submission, should it have happened to fall out of order in the least. "But I'm sure you can see that. Even if you don't want to admit it." The human girl descended the stairs, her face red, her eyes watering.

"Where is all of this from?" he demanded, his hand waving toward the alcove.

"He had a little flat. Down in the industrial area, in a warehouse. It was his studio," she explained. "Had a lot going for him…" she continued. "Gamyuo Oichi gave him a full scholarship to go to Tokyo University this fall," she told him, her voice cracking considerably as she spoke. Fat tears left wet tracks on her cheeks, and she viciously scrubbed them away. "He was really proud. He swore up and down that you and your father would be proud of him too."

"I need to go—"

She bent to pick up the discarded canvas. She turned it over in her hands, her mouth jerking to one side. "He really looked up to you. Did you know?" She gave a short, loud laugh, half choked with a sob. "He almost wanted nothing more than to make you proud of him."

Sesshomaru's lips smoothed into a thin line. He was ready to leave. He didn't want to stay around and hear any more of this. He pushed past the girl.

"Can I just ask you one last question?" she asked, just as his foot hit the first step. She took his pause as compliance. "Do you…do you even feel anything right now?" she asked, half pleading with him. "He was…he was your little brother…I mean…don't you feel any regret at _all_? Don't you regret that…that you didn't get to _know_ him?"

Sesshomaru didn't move and didn't respond for a very long time as he pondered that question. His hand clenched the railing tightly, and he considered ignoring her.

He'd done too much—or perhaps not nearly enough—to Inuyasha for any acknowledgement of wrongdoing to make a difference now. What good would it do? I wouldn't bring the half breed back. It wouldn't stop their father from having been drunk and violent. It wouldn't bring the old man close enough for Sesshomaru to keep tabs on him. He had no idea where the man was. His small token of a coin's worth apology wouldn't take the sorrow off of that young girl's face, nor would it heal her. And it wouldn't make him feel as though he'd done something worthwhile. In face, Sesshomaru reasoned, it might even be insulting.

"I make no regrets known," he said shortly. Her tiny gasp and small choked cry confirmed what he knew; she was inconsolable, whether he was regretful and penitent or not.

"Do you…do you at least want your portrait?" she hiccupped. "I think…I think he _really_ would have wanted you to have it. Please take it. _Please_ take it, just for him."

Sesshomaru considered this. He could walk away, keeping up the appearances that he didn't care, when in fact, for the most part, he didn't. However that tiny part that showed some type of unreasonable and unquenchable pity for his deceased half-brother who'd never had a fighting chance forced his hand. His sense of honor sounded its bells, further rubbing in his negligence, further taunting him with the fact that he'd _allowed_ such harm to come to the half-breed without so much as a second glance at the boy. His conscience tormented him into a silent admission that he'd been irresponsible, apathetic, and unnecessarily cruel to what was essentially a child.

He turned around, quickly snatched the canvas, and exited the house.

He felt he was unforgivable.

* * *

**PLEASE READ ME **

Author's Notes:

And that is the end. Seriously. Of Ending 1. I'm so sorry.

But.

Like I said before, there will be another ending, and I _promise_ this one will be a happy one! It's just that when I came up with this story, this was how I first imagined the ending, and I didn't want to just let it _go_. But I'm a sucker for happy endings, so I'm definitely writing one! Stay tuned, and don't leave me just yet!

Wowzer313


	25. The Sweetest Escape

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, Rumiko Takahshi does

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, Rumiko Takahashi does.

Author's Notes:

I'm sorry, everyone! I knew it was a risk to post a sad ending, but like I said before, it's how I first imagined the ending to _The Sweetest Escape_. I didn't wanna just let it go. I'm sorry if I really upset some of you.

I'm also sorry it took so darn long! But I was kinda having a hard time with it—not like with what I wanted to happen, but just how to write it.

But here's the happy ending! I promise it's lighter, hopefully you'll enjoy a smile or two.

Some of the beginning is the same as the first ending, but only _some_, so I suggest reading it all anyway.

Enjoy. Seriously this time.

**Chapter 25:** The Sweetest Escape

The clothes flattened momentarily before fluffing back up—_again_. A hand splayed widely on the stack of shirts that had seen better days, pulling the canvas of the bag up forcefully. Two claws pushed through the bag's edge with a dull rip.

"Shit," he whispered, pulling his nails out of the sizeable holes they'd made. He sighed softly, exasperatedly, blowing a wayward wisp of hair out of his face before giving up and zippering the bulging backpack shut with finality. The black bag bulged, making the zipper pucker, and Inuyasha wondered if it would pop open—most likely at the most inopportune moment.

He glanced around the sparse room—now even more bare with the lack of the odd article of clothing floating about. He wouldn't miss it. He probably would not even think about it ever again, save for the wayward thought or two. He would never think about this house again, or its lack of furnishings, and warmth, and love. If it ever did happen across his mind, it would be accompanied with nothing but nausea, a grimace, and a shudder.

His internal clock sounded, alerting him to leave the paltry sanctity of his room and head downstairs to cook his father's last meal.

Inuyasha skirted around the wall adjacent to the living room, wary eyes glued to the silent demon on the couch before him. The television, muted, flicked an array of colors over the pale man's face and hair, and bathed the room in a bluish glow. 'Why is he watching the TV on mute?' Inuyasha thought edgily. The man stared straight ahead at the images that flittered across the screen, unmoving, unblinking. Inuyasha pulled his gaze away and edged his way into the kitchen, practically tiptoeing. There was no sense in upsetting his father before his departure.

He set to steaming some vegetables in a wok, working with methodically, yet with hands that trembled uncontrollably. Under his breath, he murmured directions to himself that he'd followed silently countless times before; somehow he couldn't seem to stem his need for verbal direction, now.

The rice boiled, the sound of the roiling water, and his knife hitting the cutting board with every slice through the chicken breasts, the only sounds throughout the house. His ears twitched wildly, wishing for only the tiniest hint of noise—the dead calm was unnerving. He inhaled through his nose and exhaled through his mouth to prevent hyperventilating and focused intently on placing the cubes of raw chicken formulaically into the pan to keep his mind from wandering to places unsavory. A sharp clicking broke the near-silence as the fire under the skillet ignited, the pungent tang of gas polluting the air.

"Where the hell are you goin'?"

The slurred query startled Inuyasha, and he whirled around to see his father staggered heavily against the doorjamb, a glazed, murderous look in his glassy eyes.

"What?" Inuyasha asked needlessly.

"I said, where the _hell_ are you _goin'_?" he shouted, loud and sloppy. Spittle flew from his lips.

"Nowhere," Inuyasha said, clearing his throat. His jaw clenched tightly.

"You damn right you're not goin' nowhere," the man spat. "What do you take me for? Stupid?"

"No, Sir," he answered.

"You think I don't know what's up? You think I'm blind? What the fuck is this?" he yelled, tossing Inuyasha's bookbag towards him, the pack skittering across the linoleum to Inuyasha's feet. His gut turned cold. "Where you plannin' on goin', boy?"

Inuyasha stared at the overturned and bulging bag, looked at his staggeringly drunk father, looked at the doorway to his freedom, visible and tempting across the feet of wooden floor he had to cross. He could lie. He could tell his father once more that he was planning on going nowhere, and later attempt his escape as planned. But why? He was sick of the runaround. He gulped, braced, and straightened himself.

"I…I'm leaving." The man before him stared blankly at him for a long stretch of time, slowly absorbing the information he'd just been dealt.

"Leaving…" he echoed. "Leaving. Where you leavin' to?"

"I'm going…I'm going someplace better," Inuyasha said finally. "Someplace better, and safe, and…and someplace away from you."

"Oh, is that so?" the man asked skeptically, leaning heavily on the table to his side. His right hand trembled as he pointed to himself. "You're runnin' from _me_?"

"Yes," Inuyasha said, his voice shaking only slightly as he answered.

"And why is that?"

"Because…because I deserve better. I…I deserve better than what you do to me—"

"You're an ungrateful little _bitch_!" his father seethed, taking three large and staggering steps toward the boy. "I didn't have to take you! I didn't have to take your half-breed ass in, you know that?" He was now frighteningly close, and Inuyasha could practically taste the enormous amount of alcohol on the older demon's breath. He shrank back, grasping frantically for the chopping knife he'd just set down.

"So now what? You wanna leave? Huh? You wanna leave? You wanna run to that little…little whore you been fucking around with behind my back? Huh? Is that what you wanna do, you fucking useless half-wit?" Inutaishou roared. Inuyasha was silent, his trembling fingers clutched tightly around the smooth handle of the knife. "Didn't think I knew about the girl, did ya? You just think you can run the fuck around after I leave the damned house and do whatever the _fuck _you want to do?"

"I didn't mean to upset you!" Inuyasha said lowly. His chest heaved, and his heart knocked against his ribs so hard that it hurt. "I wasn't trying to make you upset. I only want—"

The man's face split into an even more horrid mask, his nostrils flared and brows meeting lowly.

"I don't give a _damn_ what you want," he sneered. "You ain't goin' nowhere."

Inuyasha felt a torrential wave of panic crash over him at the finality of his father's words.

"I deserve better!" he blurted desperately. "I…I don't deserve what you do to me! I don't deserve to get hit every day…I don't deserve you calling me every horrible name in the book every chance you get! I deserve more than tha—"

A broad, rough palm connected sharply with Inuyasha's cheek, sending his head snapping to the side, then the other, when he was backhanded. A hand fisted the front of his shirt tightly, pulling the boy close, and swinging him around.

"You listen here," the man began slowly, a finger tipped with a dangerously sharp claw a scant few millimeters away from his son's eye. "Don't you ever get in into your empty little head that you don't deserve the punishments you get. You hear that? _Ever_."

He pushed the boy away roughly, sending him crashing into the cool face of the refrigerator. Papers stuck to the surface fluttered from the disturbed rush of air, glass containers inside rattled and fell, and Inuyasha gasped at the force with which his back hit the appliance. The older demon looked upon him with drunken and dark disdain.

"I dunno what the hell that little bitch has been tellin' you," he started, "but you can forget it all. You're a waste of space, and nothin' else, you got that? You're worthless, and stupid, and you need to remember your place."

Inutaishou sneered at the boy leaning against the fridge, his face set in a grimace. The demon snorted with contempt and turned to leave the kitchen.

Inuyasha shook, his eyes stinging painfully with tears of frustration, fury, and hurt. He dug the knife hard into the floor, the point piercing the linoleum underneath it. He stared contemptuously at the back of the retreating demon, and made the conscious decision to let his mouth run free.

"I hate you," he whispered shakily. The abrupt jerk that shook the older man as he stopped suddenly told Inuyasha that his statement had been heard. "I fucking…_hate_ you," he continued. He lifted himself from the floor, away from the fridge, his eyes glaring piercingly at the ground before him. "I'm…I'm _more _than that," he hissed. "I am more than just…a half-breed. I…I am not…stupid. And I am not worthless."

"I…h-h-hate you… _s-so_ much. You…you tell me…you _scream_ at me that I am not…_worth_ anything…but I _am_…" Of its own accord, a hot, frustrated tear splashed down Inuyasha's cheek, and called its friends to join. Inuyasha gritted his teeth as the salty drops left their tracks against his flushed and burning face; he wanted them to stop. Inutaishou turned slowly to face the boy, the slants of shadows in the hallway hiding the greater part of his face. His malicious eyes, however, winked brightly through the darkness at Inuyasha, belying their intent.

"I have a scholarship to go to Tokyo University this fall," he told him. "A full scholarship…it's paying for everything…And…and I _earned_ that! All on my own, I _earned_ it, Dad…" The man did not react; he merely stood, taking in everything Inuyasha was saying, his obscured face seeming not to move at all. Inuyasha screamed in frustration internally. Was it so much to ask for a reaction? For a small break in that vicious mask? For a tiny spark of _something_ even _remotely_ akin to pride in those impenetrable eyes that so closely mirrored his own? The impassioned tone of his words surprised even himself, and he willed for it to be catching. He willed the man to, at the very least, grace him with an approving smile. He barreled on.

"_Gamyuo Oichi_ wants to hang _my_ art in his home. In his _mansion_, Dad! He likes _my_ work! I…I got talent…and I'm…I'm gonna…I'm gonna _be_ somebody. I'm gonna go to college…and I'm gonna get an education, and I'm gonna graduate, and get a good job, and make good money! And…and I'm gonna be somebody important!" he yelled, the hand that didn't hold the knife gesturing wildly to his person. "And…all I have wanted…for _years_…is for you to…to _see_ something else in me…for you to see something else…besides just 'half-breed'."

"There's nothing more _to_ see!" the man snapped.

"There _is_!" Inuyasha shouted frantically. The laboriousness of his breathing shook his frame, and he tried to slow down before he began to hyperventilate. "There is…so much more. And you…" Inuyasha closed his eyes, taking the time to allow himself a deep breath. "And I hate…that you will never see that," he said finally, almost to quiet to hear. "Is it…is it so much to ask that you'd be proud of me?" he whispered.

"Shut up! Just shut the fuck up!" Inutaishou roared, rushing forward at a breakneck speed and wrapping a large hand around the surprised boy's throat. "I don't want to hear one more _word_ out of you." While his grip was firm, it was not cutting off Inuyasha's air supply enough to have him choking. His eyes clenched shut and he struggled, quite aware of the razor-like claws that had grown a few millimeters in the preceding seconds; his father's eyes bled at the edges into a frighteningly bright shade of tanager red, the graceful blue lines that crested his cheekbones growing jagged and sharp.

"Please…please…" Inuyasha whimpered almost silently. He would appeal to his father's sense of selfishness; perhaps he could reason with the unreasonable—perhaps he could catch a break, a tiny break. "You…you could let me g-go—you could t-t-turn your b-back for five seconds and I'd be gone!" he cried desperately. "You'd never have to see me again—Never! I promise…I know how m-much you hate me—if you'd just l-let me go, I'd be gone—o-out of your life forever, I swear," he said earnestly. The grip around his throat increased to the strength of vice, and he struggled to draw in air.

"Drop the knife, boy," the man snarled. Inuyasha's vision began to waver, the edges growing dark with the pressure still on his windpipe.

"L-let…me go," he choked out. "Pl-please…let…me go."

"Drop. The fucking. Knife," his father repeated slowly. 'Not a chance,' Inuyasha thought determinedly.

Putting as much force as he could muster into it, Inuyasha swung his arm in a wide arc, and slashed the knife, sticky and gummy with chicken residue, across his father's face, from his right temple, and down to the left side of his chin.

An animalistic and enraged howl erupted from the gouged demon as blood poured hotly from the wound, spilling down into his open mouth. Both of his hands jerked up to his face, catching gushes of blood that proceeded to seep through his fingers.

"You little bastard!" he raged. "I'll kill you!"

Inuyasha was frozen for a moment, euphorically entranced by the sight of his father's face—bloody for once instead of his own, made that way by his own hands. His eye was gouged, that much he could see, and Inuyasha hoped the eye would never see again. He longed to take another stab at him, two more times, three more times, unstopping until he felt sated. But there was no time for that.

Sidestepping away from the enraged man, Inuyasha bolted through the house, the bouncing vision of the front door, all he could see, all he could focus on.

His fingers clumsily fumbled with the locks, slipping off of the metal and clattering against his claws. The bloodied blade of the knife he still held knocked against the wood with every attempt he made at opening the door. His breath had been reduced to shallow pants, hyperventilation fully setting in. He knew he only had a few more precious seconds before his father recovered enough to come for him again, and they ticked away with every slip of his fingers. He finally managed to rip the chain from its bolt and turn the lever-lock, twisting the knob with adrenaline-induced force and flinging the door open.

Cold air hit him in the face, and he was suddenly very aware of the fact that he was in his pajamas, a thin, worn t-shirt and shabby cotton pants. He wore no shoes, and no socks, and he was likely to get frostbite running through the frozen, snow-covered streets. But all he could focus on was the fact that Kagome was sitting in her car not even seven blocks away, waiting for him, waiting to take him home.

He'd bolted two steps down the porch. The quickest two steps of his life. The feeling of overwhelming relief had just started to trickle over him.

A horrible burning sensation shot through his entire scalp, and he couldn't stifle the agony-filled shriek he emitted as his entire length of hair was forcefully ripped back, and his body was jerked to an abrupt halt, his back hitting hard upon the cement. The breath was knocked out of him, and he had to blink hard to clear the dancing spots from his vision.

Heat enveloped him as he was yanked up by the collar of his t-shirt and literally thrown back into the house, colliding soundly with the arm of the couch. His ears flattened quickly with the thunderous slam of the door, and he could feel the floor vibrate with the plodding of heavy footsteps. He scrambled to his feet, bumping into the arm of the couch and stumbling to the side, providing his father with the opportunity to grip his jaw tightly and lift him into the air, slamming him into the wall beside the television.

"You didn't _really_ think you'd get away from me, did you?" the demon sneered viciously, looking up at the boy he held in his trembling grip. "Then again…you don't exactly think things through."

"No! _NO!_" he cried, kicking wildly.

"You think you…can get the best of _me_? You think you can just run out on _me_? After all the shit you've caused?"

"I wouldn't be around to _cause_ any more shit if you just let me go!" Inuyasha screamed. He was still afraid. But his trembling fear had taken a backseat to the pure adrenaline-fueled terror he was pumped full of now. He struggled wildly, his head thrashing from side to side. "Let me go you bastard! Let me go, I fucking _hate_ you! I hate you, let me go!" he cried.

"You insignificant little fuck!" Inutaishou roared back. The far recesses of his mind whispered to him. Inuyasha's eyes darted to the closed door, its locks already undone. Ten feet, he guessed. It wasn't that far. And yet, it was a world away. Could he make it?

He had to.

* * *

Kagome was scared. She didn't think she'd ever felt so afraid in her life as she did right then. She'd decided right away against parking in the lot of the grocery store. The light of day was fading, and the parking lot was growing dark and shadowy and intimidating. She opted for the well-lit gas station across the street with the kindly-looking attendant standing at the register. At least that place had a steady flow of traffic coming in and out of it. And she could see the parking lot from where she was, so when Inuyasha arrived, she'd know.

She wanted her mother. She'd wanted the woman to come with her, but understood the tumult of preparations that she had to take care of at home. She'd wanted anyone, really, to be there with her in the car.

She'd thought about asking Miroku or Sango to accompany her. If it hadn't been a school night, she might have called one or both of them. But then, she reasoned, she'd have to give a reason as to _why_ they were hanging about a gas station at night, waiting for Inuyasha. He didn't want them to know. He hadn't wanted _her_ to know. And in no way was she about to betray his confidence. She knew how embarrassed he was about the whole situation already.

"You're sure…" he'd begun, mumbling unintelligibly and ashamed.

"Sure what?" she'd pushed. Her mother leaned forward on her elbows across the table to catch his murmured response.

"You're sure I won't be…a burden?" he mumbled.

"Honey," Mrs. Higurashi soothed, placing her hand atop his. "It's no trouble, I promise you. The only trouble is in you staying where you are. Don't you worry about anything," she assured him.

One look at his face had told Kagome he wasn't all that assured. He'd insisted on going back to get his clothes and other belongings, against Kagome's adamant protests that he go straight home with them. He didn't want to 'burden them any further', as he'd said. It was enough that they'd opened up their home, he'd said. He absolutely refused to allow them to purchase clothes for him.

What could she do? It wasn't as though she could pick him up and _place_ him in her car. All she could do was to give him what was probably useless advice.

Kagome shivered, and burrowed deeper into her coat, up to her nose. Despite the car's heat being cranked up to full blast, she was still freezing, and she knew it had little to do with the frigid weather. She looked at the clock on her car radio again. He'd told her that it might be a while. But he'd also told her that he would try his hardest to meet her at ten. It was already ten thirty-two. She was worried.

Another glance across the road at the parking lot told her what she already knew; he wasn't there.

"Where _are_ you, love?" she asked his absent person. "Please turn up soon. You're scaring me."

* * *

Inutaishou's hand tightened dangerously around the boy's jaw, threatening to crack it with the force. He smiled sickly at the struggling teen, his glazed eyes hungry and malicious. The demon yanked the boy forward, smashing his already bruised back against the unyielding wall again and again and again.

Inuyasha's eyes fluttered, his head lolling to the side with the force it was taking from the wall. He felt his jaw throbbing, and strangely, loose. He struggled to find his equilibrium, and gave a mighty heave, pushing against his assailant, sending the drunken demon staggering backwards. The boy was stumbling over himself, panicked and trembling, as he seized the opportunity and neared the door. His fingers stretched to their limits, reaching for the knob.

Inutaishou threw himself forward, the bulk of his body weight crashing into the already unsteady boy, sending them both tumbling to the ground. Inuyasha yelped in surprise as his father landed on top of him, causing his knee to twist the entirely wrong way as he fell. The sharp pain that shot through his entire leg distracted him momentarily from the larger demon pinning his knees heavily into his chest. Terror overriding any remaining logic he may have had, Inuyasha flailed wildly, the knife he was somehow still grasping flashing dangerously through the air. He managed to land one blow, the blade sinking cleanly into the meat of his father's thigh.

The drunken demon barely reacted to that, only growling gutturally, and ripping the boy's wrist from the plunged weapon, snapping it without interlude, the raucous cry that followed piercing through the air. He slapped him soundly across the cheek, his head flying to one side. "Shut up. All your noise… 's givin' me a headache." He grabbed the knife and the scruff of the boy's bangs, holding his head still. He pulled the knife from his own flesh, and held the blade against the thin skin of his son's throat, glaring at him through a bloody eye and a blood-red eye.

"Now what are you going to do, huh? You got any more little tricks? Any more moves?"

"I…I—I—p-p-please," he begged. "Please…" Tears stung his eyes and pooled over, splashing down his temples. "Please, I just wanna go, please—" A crippling blow to the belly cut off any further entreaty.

"Shut. Up," Inutaishou ordered in a slurred voice that booked no argument. 'No, no, no, no,' Inuyasha thought. He was so close to giving up—so close to just accepting whatever was coming. 'I can't just…' He had so much to look forward to…'Kagome!' he cried out in his mind. He silently called out to her over and over and over again.

Fighting the paralysis that had momentarily overtaken him, he jerked his good arm upwards, and sunk his claws deep into the flesh of his father's hand, making him recoil and hiss in pain, the knife falling once more. He tried to scramble away, his broken wrist and wrenched knee killing him. He vaguely heard the knife clatter away somewhere as his flesh tore from behind, the claws of a partly transformed and enraged dog demon ripping shallowly into him.

He couldn't even cry out, he was too overwhelmed by pain, and so, only a small grunt escaped him when he was pulled back onto the ground, the back of his skull connecting the corner of a small end table. A jolt of fierce tingling shot through him, and he felt weak, and strangely languid.

He succumbed to the devastating feeling of helplessness that had been hovering over him, unable to make himself care that tears fell from his eyes unchecked, or that his vision was wavering dangerously, fading in and out from oppressive black, or that his hearing was strangely muted.

He was vaguely aware that there was a long gap of time from which he could remember nothing, only that his father was waging a horribly unmatched war with his limp body, fists and claws pummeling his trunk and face, and he was powerless to stop him.

After what seemed like forever, he only became fully aware again when he heard the creaking of the door on its old hinges, and the protesting rumble of an engine. He mentally felt out to every extremity of his body, nauseous from the throbbing pain that was present everywhere, the metallic tang of blood in the air, and the pungent odor of something burning. To his disgust and chagrin, the nausea overcame him all at once, and he fought to turn his head to the side as vomit choked him up. He coughed violently, emptying the paltry contents of his stomach onto the floor, surprised at the massive pain in his throat as he did so.

His body relaxed after his choking spell, and the muscles in his neck went limp.

He was sleepy.

* * *

The little green display flicked. '10:47,' it read. 'Okay. Give him one more minute,' Kagome told herself. She'd been playing the 'One More Minute' game for the past ten, and she was getting sick of it.

"Screw this," she muttered, turning the key into the ignition. It wasn't like Inuyasha was a shining example of punctuality. He wasn't. He never had been. But the fact of the matter was that it was late, she was scared, and she wanted him there with her. Now. She knew Inuyasha's position on this; he wanted out of that house. There was no way he'd stay any longer than necessary. And that was what scared her most.

As she pulled out of the gas station in the direction of his house, she worked out her plan. She'd just drive toward his house, hoping to run into him on the way. If she didn't, she'd drive past his house, around the block once, maybe twice. Just to see if there was any activity. Anything.

Trepidation filled her gut as she drove the few blocks, not seeing a tall huddled figure on the sidewalk. She'd been hoping so much to find him somewhere along these streets…

She turned down his street, praying that at any moment, she would see him, black hoodie coated with the soft white snowflakes that fell into the quiet road, already graced with a covering. It was so silent. It made her shake.

Her stomach bottomed out as she passed his house. The door was open, a black rectangle perhaps about a foot wide boasted entry inside. 'Oh, no…' she thought. 'No. There's nothing wrong. There's _nothing_ wrong…' she murmured to herself over and over. 'He's fine. He's just _fine_, Kagome.'

She parked a few houses down, shutting her lights off and waiting, her gloved fingers crossed. She whispered a prayer. 'Come on, Inuyasha…come _on_, please.'

The stillness amplified the thunderous beating of her heart, and the dark rectangle left by the open door tempted her.

"Please be okay. Please, _please_ be okay," she whispered desperately, the tiniest hint of a sob working its way into her voice. He had to be okay. He just _had_ to be…

She couldn't wait any longer. She got out of the car. She knew it was stupid, dangerous, reckless, and Inuyasha would probably scream her ear off for doing it, but she felt she had to. She couldn't help it. Some deeply rooted instinct was telling her…was screaming at her that something wasn't right—that he _needed _her…

There was no car in the driveway. The house had no garage, that much she knew from her previous visit. 'There shouldn't be anyone home,' she reasoned as she haltingly approached the property. Her own breathing was deafening to her, and she tried breathing through her nose.

Her hand was trembling with all the force of an epileptic seizure when she pushed the door open, the tremendous groan it gave scaring her out of her skin. The house was dark and marred with shadows from the pale glow of the moon shining through a few windows. Despite the darkness, it seemed foggy, and her eyes stung. There was an insistent beeping echoing from somewhere deep in the house.

The noxious smell of vomit and blood hit her senses, and she grappled desperately along the wall for a light. Finally hitting upon a switch, a single, bare light bulb blinked on above her head, casting tawny shadows across the slats of wood.

She screamed. She regretted it immediately. She was sure it didn't help. Quicker than ever before, her cell phone was ripped from her pocket, and her fingers flew across the keys, dialing the number for emergency.

She wasn't even sure of what she'd said, or even if it was coherent. She didn't know if her voice was even enough for the operator to understand what she'd said, or if she'd given the street address numbers in the right order. She prayed she did; but she wasn't sure. She was fairly certain that she'd managed to communicate all of the important information: there was a boy bleeding very badly on the living room floor of his own home—he was very badly injured. Was he moving? Yes…yes, she thought she saw his hand move a tiny bit… Was there anything else wrong? The operator wanted to know. Would she need anything other than an ambulance? The operator could hear the beeping. Kagome rushed a bit deeper into the house—flames leaped at her from the doorjamb to the kitchen. She screamed and jumped back, flames licking viciously against the varnished wood on the walls. "The house is on fire!" she yelled. The fire alarm continued to beep insistently. Please, _please _bring help soon. She was terrified. Please don't let him die, she begged. Please. He means the world to me, she cried.

She coughed, the stinging in her eyes intensifying. The crackling of fire was growing louder, she realized, and she could see the tips of intermittent flames leaping out closer to where she stood. The fire was growing. She had to get him out.

She pushed aside the revulsion she felt upon looking at the puddle of vomit and blood near his head, and rushed towards the body sprawled on the floor. Bending over, she hooked her hands under his arms and whispered an apology to him as she dragged him away from the source of the fire. He was heavy and unmoving, and it was slow work. She strained against his weight, her own lungs seizing from the lack of fresh air.

She finally managed to pull him from the sweltering house, the sweat on her face instantly chilling her as she entered the cold night air. She was dizzy from the smoke inhalation, and she cringed to think of how bad off Inuyasha was; how long had he been unconscious in the burning house?

She dropped to the stoop beside him, pulling him into her lap as gently as she could. She shrugged out of her coat, tucking it around his mostly naked upper half. His body was limp and heavy in her arms, sticky with blood and plastered with his own hair. She cried, cradling him against her closely, still working at keeping the coat securely over his chilled flesh.

"Inuyasha?" she whispered, her voice shaking uncontrollably. "Inuyasha? Inuyasha, can you hear me?"

He was almost unrecognizable, his face swollen, red, and streaked with blood. His head lolled back, and she reached under it to support it with her forearm. She almost vomited herself when her fingers came back coated with thick blood. She trembled all over, wiping her fingers on her jeans and tenderly brushing his matted bangs from his pale face.

"Help is coming," she whispered tremulously. "Please just hold on for a little longer. Help is coming."

A raucous cough tore from his throat, his chest almost going through spasms. Her stomach bottomed out when she saw the flecks of blood that splattered his dry lips, a trickle of it running from the corner of his mouth when the coughing spell ceased. He was bleeding internally. Blinking through blinding tears, she pulled the cuff of her shirt down over her palm and gently blotted away the blood that dribbled from his mouth.

Kagome gasped, relief flooding her like a tidal wave when his eyelids twitched, slowly cracking at intermittent periods. He looked up at her for a moment as though he had no idea who she was, through bleary golden eyes.

"Inuyasha," she murmured tearfully. He continued to stare at her, his brow wrinkling slightly.

"H-h…help…m-me…" he croaked, chapped lips twitching. "K…K'gome…" She nodded vigorously through her tears, her fingers stroking his face comfortingly.

"Help is coming, Inuyasha, I promise you. There's an ambulance on its way right now, okay? You just hold on, alright?"

"H…hurts…" he choked softly.

"I know. I know it hurts. You just wait. Just wait. They're coming," she whispered, repeating it again and again. "I love you, okay? Just wait…just wait…"

* * *

Her back was killing her. Her neck was awfully sore, her hindquarters were numb, and she felt disgusting. Mrs. Higurashi shifted painfully in the rock-hard chair, finally deciding that she would take a walk around the floor instead. She checked her watch. '2:28', it read. Kagome would be getting out of school shortly, and she had no doubt that her daughter would rush there immediately after.

"I'll have to tell her to bring me another pair of shoes," she murmured softly to herself, standing. She raised her arms high above her head, wincing as her bones popped in protest. Starting towards the door of the room, she glanced back, saddening yet again at the pale youth that lay prone on the bed. Suddenly a walk didn't seem all that important anymore.

She approached his bedside slowly, her fingers reaching out to graze gently against the back of his hand. The flesh was bruised. The nurse that had affixed his IV was nervous, and missed many times…

His face was lax, seeming to have no muscle at all. The breathing tube that disappeared between twin chapped lips fogged and cleared in time with the rise and fall of his chest, which all moved to the steady beeping of his heart monitor. Taking as much care as she could, she gently lifted his head, peeling back the large mound of gauze that covered what had been the entrance for the surgeon's tools. The bandage was spotted with blood, but she'd been told that a bit of drainage was to be expected…with all the times they'd had to drain his skull of the excess fluid, she was surprised he wasn't bleeding a bit more, the incision had been reopened so many times…

"Can you even hear me in there, Inuyasha?" she murmured uselessly. It was only out of habit now, that she asked him. She'd asked him the same question every morning for the past fifteen days. It wasn't that he responded when she asked; there was no response at all. It was only in the small hope that perhaps, by some miracle, her voice would reach him through the thick blanket of his sleep and perhaps rouse him… "We're all waiting for you, Sweetheart," she whispered. "We'll keep waiting for you."

She checked her watch again, deciding that she would at least wait until Kagome arrived to take her walk and stretch her legs. She opened her bag and took out a novel, opening it to the place her bookmark held. She lifted the half-rimmed spectacles from her bosom and perched them on the bridge of her nose, settling into the uncomfortable chair to read.

A faint twitch caught her eye. Her eyes snapped to the prone figure on the bed. He wasn't moving at all. She watched him for a long moment, but there was still nothing. Shaking her head and brushing it off as simply her imagination, she turned her attention back to her book.

There it was again. A small, barely noticeable, but hardly mistakable twitch. Allowing a small spark of hope to infuse her, Mrs. Higurashi determinedly set her book face-down on the chair, and crossed to the bed, leaning over the guardrails to peer down at the gaunt face. It was motionless, still slack and blank…but then, just when she was about to turn away, a small flicker…his right ear perked ever so slightly.

"Inuyasha?" she called gently. She passed a hand over his eyes, and was delighted to see movement under the lids, responding to the change in light. "Can you open your eyes, Honey?" She watched as he tried, the lids tugging at one another. Matter from his long sleep caked the lids, and she rushed for a cloth and warm water.

After gently wiping the matter from his eyes, she gently urged him to try again, patting his cheek soothingly, whispering soothing reassurances and words of encouragement.

It took him a long time. He struggled against his own flesh, at times needing to rest, he was so weak. Mrs. Higurashi didn't leave, continuing to murmur reassuringly to him, until finally, he was able to open his eyes to half mast, and tenuously keep them there. His golden eyes, dulled and watery, lolled unfocusedly about, finally flicking to her face after awhile.

"Hello, Sweetheart," she said tearfully, smiling weakly. "Welcome back…"

She snapped to her senses, pulling herself out of the initial, knee-weakening joy she felt at his long awaited awakening, and fumbled for the call button.

* * *

The hands were cold. Frigidly cold, and rough, and his skin, over-sensitized for some reason that he couldn't readily identify, screamed at every place she touched him. But he couldn't cry out; he could barely even grunt in pain.

"His vitals look relatively normal," the doctor announced, much too loud for his liking; her voice throttled his head, and he felt as though he would pass out from the sheer pain the volume caused. "Honestly, with all the fluid build-up he had, and with the severity of the fracture, I'm surprised he woke as quickly as he has. Fifteen days is by no means a short time, but considering the extent of the trauma, I have to say I'm impressed with his recovery so far. He still has a ways to go, keep in mind…"

'Fifteen days?' he thought groggily. 'What is going _on_?'

"I know he's just woken and everything, but how long do you think it will be before he can come home?" asked another voice, this one much gentler. 'Mrs. Higurashi!' he thought with relief. At least someone he knew and trusted was nearby.

"Oh, I can't answer that. It'll really depend on him. It shouldn't be too long, though. He seems to be made of tough stuff, and now that he's awake, his body can focus more on its own rehabilitation than just keeping him alive."

"I see…well. At the very least, he's awake. I'm relieved for that," Mrs. Higurashi said tiredly. He was confused. Where was Kagome? If her mother was near, surely she couldn't be far away…

He tried to open his mouth to voice his confusion, and found that he couldn't. All he could do was continue the choked gurgles he'd been emitting the entire time she checked his vitals. He grunted louder, trying to get anyone's attention.

"Don't try talking just yet, young man," she instructed. "You shouldn't strain yourself so soon after waking up. You took quite the beating and…" she prattled on and on about his condition while he tried to wrap his mind around what was happening He could feel it; the metal chunks on his teeth, the wires and pins. His jaw was firmly wired shut, his teeth pressed around the breathing tube shoved intrusively down his throat. He wanted to yank it out, breath on his own. He wanted to get up, run away from this smelly place with its harsh lighting, annoying beeping sounds, scratchy bedding and cold, rough-handed doctors. He was severely annoyed, and to add to his discomfort, he was horribly in pain. He absolutely ached everywhere.

He suddenly felt very closed in, and became hyperaware of every foreign object that was touching him at that moment; the bounty of metal in his mouth, the restricting bandages on his head, the excessive padding around his knee, and the constricting plaster on his wrist…the pace of his breathing increased, and the annoyingly insistent beeping in the background increased its frequency.

"Inuyasha, I have to change the dressing on your head," the doctor said slowly. Now calm down, okay? Just calm down," she eased, her wrinkly hands inching toward his face. It didn't calm him, and he strained to sit up, groaning loudly as his entire body protested with vigor.

"Oh, Kami…Inuyasha…" came the sound of a disbelieving voice, followed by the heavy thud of something hitting the floor. He stopped his struggle, shaking and confused, upset at being unable to open his mouth or exert as much energy as he wanted, his head feeling as though it were on the brink of exploding.

'That voice…' he thought. He _knew_ that voice…he loved that voice. 'Kagome!'

Despite knowing that he couldn't open his mouth, and knowing that he wasn't truly strong enough to exercise his vocal cords, he still tried to call out her name, a garbled, wheezing sound coming from him instead.

"I'm here," she whispered, suddenly at his side. He relaxed, stopped straining against his body's limitations, and sighed. A lock of her hair slipped from behind her shoulders and tickled the tip of his nose as she leaned over him. "Hi, love," she said, her voice cracking as she pressed a soft palm to his cheek. Her eyes pooled with tears, and he wanted desperately to tell her to stop it. But he was suddenly so tired, and his head hurt so badly…perhaps if he went to sleep, the pain would be gone when he woke up?

"I'm so glad to have you back," came her choked whisper. He closed his eyes slowly, tried to smile. He didn't know if it worked. He didn't care anymore…Kagome was here, and he was so, _so_ sleepy…

He drifted off, just as she leaned further down to gently kiss his forehead.

* * *

The quiet sounds of a sleepy household came drifting through the thin wooden door to his ears. He breathed deeply, in an out, in and out, in time with the soft rooting snores Souta emitted just above his head. He had to concentrate on that these days, breathing. It wasn't that he couldn't do it—it just required him to think about it a bit more consciously. The doctor had warned him that it would be that way, at least for a little while, as his body was still working very hard to repair itself.

"You need rest," the old woman had said, squinting hard at him through her one good eye. "Sleep is your best friend."

He didn't want to sleep. He was exhausted, and he ached, and he knew that he _needed_ to sleep, but he couldn't, and didn't particularly want to. He'd slept for fifteen days straight in a deep coma, and then on an off in bursts of deep unconsciousness. His naps had been the stuff of legends as of late. He felt he'd had enough.

Trembling fingers tugged weakly on the tiny chain, clicking on the desk lamp, and bathing his work surface in a small oval of osage orange light. His project from before dinner greeted him, and he scanned it critically.

He'd mastered his name. In a matter of sixty minutes, he'd managed to relearn how to form the proper characters, spelling out each character. It wasn't how it used to be, he thought. The shapes that swam on the blank paper were much tighter, much more precise and rigid than he'd made them before. But that could have been entirely due to the amount of concentration he'd put into forming them. It hadn't been easy, what with the tremors running through his fingers. And though it was ambitious, and most definitely too soon, he'd started a sketch.

His fingers gripped the pencil as tightly as he could manage, still a feeble hold all the same. In all the time he'd put into it, before he'd been called to dinner, he'd still only managed to replicate the first segment of his pinky finger to his liking. It was even more painstakingly slow than he liked to spend on his most involved painting projects. And it was only a simple sketch.

His brow creased in his concentration as he moved the pencil carefully over the page, trying his hardest not to allow the shakes to show in graphite. The faint line he left behind was the only testament to how hard he was working, and it angered him.

A soft rapping on the door made him jump, his already-skittish heart giving a great start at the noise.

"Yes?" he called softly.

"It's me," answered the just as soft female voice. "May I come in?" It was a strange thing, being asked for entry into his room. He liked it. A tiny grin quirked his lips as he answered.

"Yes."

The door swung slowly open.

"Hello," she smiled, shutting the door gently behind her. "Cocoa?" she offered, holding up a large mug full of the steaming liquid. Inuyasha smiled weakly at her familiar offer. He did want some, however he was positive that he'd be unable to drink unaided, and so, he refused. "What are you still doing up? It's really late," she pointed out with a frown. She crossed the room to stand beside him at the desk, peering over his shoulder at his work.

"Don't wanna sleep," he mumbled.

"You need sleep, Inuyasha," she murmured.

"I know. I am tired…" he admitted. "But I…" he trailed off, embarrassed. Her hand rested gently on his shoulder.

"Can you get up?" she asked softly. He shrugged, flushing hotly. It was enough that his hearing was still muffled at times, or that his jaw was still wired shut, or that his coordination as of late, was a thing of the past. It was enough that he'd needed to be wheeled onto the shrine via a steep ramp, and then carted about the house like an invalid. He was embarrassed, and he didn't want to need her for even the most basic of tasks. He didn't want to need her simply to get into bed.

"It's okay, Inuyasha. You've only been out of the hospital for one day. Not an entire day, even," she soothed, as though reading his mind. "You can't expect to be able to do it all at once." She slid an arm just under his shoulder blades and urged him on. "Come on, Sweetheart. Let's get to bed. No need to be embarrassed."

It hurt. His body screamed with every small movement he made, and his legs protested more than they ever had in his life. The wheelchair just outside the door was not an option in the small yet comfortable room he'd been given, and so, slowly, he shuffled along, mortified that he had to depend on the middle-aged woman at his side to help him into bed.

She pulled back the plush blankets, steadied him as he sat on the edge of the mattress, and helped him to swing both stiff legs onto the bed, his eyes pricking in humiliation and pain.

"There we are," Mrs. Higurashi said with finality as she helped him to shift a bit more fully into the bed. "All settled?" she asked him. He nodded wordlessly, biting his lip. He was angry with himself. Yet another intense wave of emotion crashed over him, as had been the norm since his freedom from his unconscious prison. He'd been unable to stem the flow of emotion that seemed to ram through him every so often lately, and he hoped that with the healing of his body would also come his ability to restrain this emotional incontinence. He was quite tired of crying in Kagome's arms now, no matter how lovely it could turn out.

"Honey, what's the matter?" the woman asked, suddenly concerned and pressing a tender hand on his shoulder in comfort. "Are you in pain?"

"N-no," he choked. "I mean…yes. But…that's not…" he trailed off, clenching his eyes shut, willing his tear ducts to reabsorb the tears they'd stupidly leaked. "That's not it," he finished. He felt the mattress dip as Mrs. Higurashi sat beside him on the bed.

"Then what is it, Hon'?" she pressed. "Come on, you can talk to me, you know that."

"I can't…I just can't…" He struggled against his own lack of censure. "I can't…_do_ anything…" he whispered finally. "I can't do anything."

"Inuyasha," she said with a slight chuckle. "Honey, you just got out of the hospital this afternoon. You were in a coma for half a month. You're doing quite well for where you are. Rome wasn't built in a day, you know," she said with a wink.

"No…" he argued faintly. Of course that was what upset him. Seventeen years old, half demon, standing at the very least nine inches above this slight human woman's head, he felt he ought to be able to help himself. He was horrified at the prospect of the next morning when he was sure he'd have to use the facilities. But now that she'd repeated his status as far as his health went for the umpteenth time, he felt stupid about complaining about it, crying about it even. But it wasn't the only thing weighing heavily on his heavily taxed mind.

"I can't…_thank_ you," he mumbled. "You…and Kagome. Everything…everything you've done f-for me. You and her…you…s-saved my life. But you….you've done everything for me…let me stay with your daughter, even when you knew about my dad. You treat me like one of your own…gave me a home…" he murmured, staring at the kindly older woman. "I…I really don't know how I could…how I could ever repay you. For everything you've done for me…I'll always be in your debt…"

"Inuyasha, Sweetie," she cooed soothingly. Her arm slipped around his sore shoulders and embraced him gently, the fingers of her opposite hand brushing away the moisture that had made its way down his cheeks. "You don't have to feel indebted to anyone."

"But…I _have_ to do something. All the court stuff, and the legal stuff, and everything—you're dealing with that because of me! And you don't know how much you're risking…everything you have, it's at risk because of me, and if it weren't for you two, I'd be—"

"Shh," she shushed him, shaking her head. "No need to dwell on things like that, now is there?" She brushed his bangs out of his eyes and gently patted the side of his face. "You're safe. That's all that's important. Forget about the rest. Forget about the court dates, and danger, and all of the mess. You're safe. You're home. You're where you're supposed to be, and that's all that matters. That's all I need as payment. I know that's all Kagome needs." She graced him with a tender smile, giving him that special, soft, comforting look that only mothers knew how to give. She kissed his temple and he shook with the amount of peace that slipped over him like a silken shroud.

"It's high time that you, Inuyasha, started living for you. And no one else."

* * *

The smell of new leather was pleasant, as was the blessed heat that drifted out of the vents in the dashboard. The company however, Inuyasha felt, was not even near passable.

Arms crossed and sunken low in his seat, he stared pointedly out of the passenger window, watching the flashy buildings of downtown Tokyo whizz by, watching the people huddled in winter dress push against the whipping wind and stinging snow. Flakes zinged down from the sky, hitting the gray streets and immediately turning to slush.

"Where do you want to eat?" the deep voice beside him inquired lowly. He rolled his eyes, sighing, the breath fogging the glass.

"I'm not hungry, I already ate," he mumbled. "I told you that before we left."

"Is it truly that difficult for you to simply choose a restaurant?" the disembodied voice asked tiredly.

"I don't care. I don't wanna be here," he said flippantly. The exasperated sigh that followed lifted the corners of his mouth in a tiny satisfactory smile. The car ride persisted for a few more extensive moments until finally a location was chosen by the driver. He smoothly parked the car in the somewhat full parking lot. Cutting the engine, he sat still for a moment, gloved fingers still on the keys dangling from the ignition. Inuyasha could feel the stare boring into the back of his averted head, and so, he finally turned to face his brother, if only to cut the confinement in the car short. Sesshomaru stared intensely at him as Inuyasha stared back with a bored expression.

"I do not want to hear any complaints," he warned sternly, in reference to the restaurant choice.

"Neither do I," Inuyasha shot back, in reference to everything else. Still holding the older demon's gaze, he opened the car door, cold air rushing abruptly in as he got out, slamming the door behind him. He waited until Sesshomaru had exited the vehicle, and was a good forty feet ahead of him before he started forward.

The waiter was already leading Sesshomaru to a secluded table on the far side of the restaurant when Inuyasha walked in. He knew it pissed Sesshomaru off when he did things like that—taking forever to get someplace. Sesshomaru felt that it made a scene. And if it pissed Sesshomaru off, well. It was something to shoot for.

Inuyasha slid into the chair opposite Sesshomaru as the older demon slid out of his tailed coat. He slouched in his seat and propped his chin up with the heel of his hand as Sesshomaru sat down and genteelly peeled off his soft black leather gloves. His eyes snapped up as soon as he'd tucked the accessories into his coat pocket, and narrowed.

"Inuyasha, take off that hat. It is unacceptable for indoors. You look like a hoodlum," he instructed snobbishly.

"…Does it annoy you?" Inuyasha asked, feigning innocence and sincerity. Sesshomaru let out a short huff, shutting his eyes.

"If you must know, yes, it is somewhat perturbing—"

"Mission accomplished, then," Inuyasha said smugly, and leaned back into his chair with a satisfied smirk and a cross of his arms. His smirk only increased when Sesshomaru yet again pinched the bridge of his nose with deep exasperation.

"You're such a child," Sesshomaru mumbled, shaking his head.

"And you're such a prick," Inuyasha shot back without hesitation. Two sets of golden eyes that so closely mirrored each other locked, one pair full of hot disdain and spitting anger, the other holding a cool annoyance and barely bridled frustration. Inuyasha tore his stare away forcefully, setting his haw. "Are we almost done yet?" he mumbled under his breath. He knew Sesshomaru heard it, because he immediately snapped his menu open and held it in front of his face.

Surely Sesshomaru despised these court-issued weekly meetings as much as he did. Inuyasha had come to dread Sunday afternoons. The whole thing was awkward and boring, and always left him angry. It had been even worse before he'd been able to leave the house. He and Sesshomaru would be given the living room for the appointed three hours, and so, for three hours, Inuyasha would sit in his wheelchair, listening to the ticking of the grandfather clock, while Sesshomaru sat on the couch, every now and then attempting a question to which he never received and answer.

At least now they could get outside of the house, and have their awkward, silent meetings elsewhere. This way the car ride to and from their destination would eat up some of the time.

The waiter came with water glasses and asked them their order. Sesshomaru made his order, and both men waited for Inuyasha's request. He eyed Sesshomaru evilly.

"I told you I'm not hungry, and my fucking jaw is still wired shut," he hissed. The waiter gasped a bit at his word choice and tone, and Sesshomaru, to cover his embarrassment, glared at Inuyasha murderously.

"I'm so sorry for his behavior," he told the waiter quickly, and ordered a second of his own meal. "There's no call for you to speak so uncouthly," he spat venomously when the man had left.

"Then stop acting like you don't hear me, you asshole."

"You are _impossible_!" Sesshomaru growled.

"Well what the hell were you _expecting_, Sesshomaru!" Inuyasha exclaimed angrily, throwing up his hands. "Were you expecting me to just forget everything? Were you expecting everything to just fucking be okay, just because of some stupid court order? It's not!"

"Keep your voice down," Sesshomaru ordered testily.

"Don't _fucking_ tell me what to do! You're in _no_ position to order me around!"

"Inuyasha, control yourself," he demanded through gritted teeth, struggling to keep his temper.

"Control myself? Fine then." He pushed away from the table with a tremendous screech against the hardwood floor. "I don't wanna be here anyway. About time I got to control _something_ around here." Inuyasha stood and forcefully shoved the chair back under the table. The back of the chair hit the table, causing the flatware to clatter, and upsetting the water glasses, water splashing all over the table cloth and Sesshomaru. He stomped off, turning quite a few heads on his noisy exit.

Sesshomaru almost bit through his tongue in his restraint. He'd had the desperate urge to leap over the table and box the impudent teen about the ears until he was unconscious. He almost immediately regretting even thinking that so soon after the boy had been released from the hospital for serious injuries incurred from their own father.

He watched the choppy shock of white hair whip out of the door as its owner stormed angrily out of the restaurant, and sighed heavily. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until colors danced across the lids. Standing, he slipped into his coat and slipped his gloves out of their inner pocket.

"Oh! Sir, I'm so terribly sorry! I'll clean this right away!" exclaimed the waiter upon seeing the spilled water all over. He whipped out a towel from his black waist-apron and began to dab.

"It is of no consequence…" Sesshomaru began. "Listen…the meals…I've had something terribly important come up. Please cancel them, thank you."

"Well…Sir, I'm afraid—"

"Nevermind," Sesshomaru waved him off, flipping his wallet open. "Here. Have your dinner on me then," he said with a clipped tone, shoving bills at the flustered waiter. He left the man stammering his thanks at the table, and pushed through the restaurant's glass doors, looking for the angered hanyou.

He sniffed the cold, sharp air discreetly, picking out the scent of his younger brother from the throng of other odors. He rolled his eyes; Inuyasha had basically fled. Sesshomaru knew he hated these meetings. But it was the first time he'd ever run _away_ from one.

'Probably because it's the first one where he _can_,' he thought darkly as he trudged to the car. He cracked the window on the passenger side, allowing a small amount of air to spill through the opening, and followed the direction that the air told him.

The boy hadn't gotten too far. He still, Sesshomaru noticed, had a significant limp. He vaguely remembered the human woman whose care he was in shouting after him that he'd forgotten his cane as they'd walked down the shrine steps. He'd acted like he hadn't heard.

"Your cane," he prompted quietly, right as Inuyasha stumbled, a grimace twisting his lips.

"Don't need it," he ground out stiffly. Sesshomaru hadn't pressed the issue.

He watched the tall figure moving amongst the humans, perhaps twenty feet ahead of him, and slowed the car to a creep along the curb. Traffic flowed angrily around his car as it impeded their way. For as severe as the gimp was, he was moving at quite a clip. 'Eager to get away from me, I suppose,' Sesshomaru mused grimly. Inuyasha paused for a moment, leaning against a light post for a rest, grabbing at his knee. He certainly still needed that cane. The boy seemed to take a deep breath, and resumed his way, shoving balled fists into his jacket pockets.

He supposed he couldn't be _too_ upset with the boy. He'd certainly been through a lot lately. It wasn't entirely his fault that he was so on edge and out of control. All things considered, he was handling himself quite well, given the circumstances, Sesshomaru begrudgingly supposed.

And Sesshomaru supposed that he himself hadn't exactly been much help in the healing process. But then he'd never really taken much of a role in the boy's life before now, sans that of a source of torment. He couldn't say that he'd been instrumental in the boy's recovery. He'd scarcely visited for that month while he was in the hospital, only showing his face now and then to dictate legal matters and finally, to inform the boy and his surrogate family of their father's death.

Inuyasha's reaction to such news was a surprise to him.

* * *

"He's…he….he's…._dead_?" he'd asked softly, staring away from him, away from the young girl at his side, away from everyone.

"Yes," Sesshomaru said shortly, having detached himself from such petty things like emotions for the time being. It was not the time, nor the place to grieve for the dead drunkard, and so, he would resign himself to his own type of woe on his own terms.

Inuyasha's empty eyes, ringed with purple and swollen had trained themselves on him, his gaunt face hanging in an odd way.

"How?" he whispered through chapped lips.

"You should know," he snapped, putting more venom in that statement than he'd intended. He was not to display his grief now, nor was he to show the biting contempt he felt at this moment for the wraith of a boy sitting in bed before him. Inuyasha's wounded face schooled him back into his trenches of stoicism, and he cleared his throat. "He was drunk and impaired. And he drove off of bridge that crossed a river. He died, most likely, instantly from the impact, but it's supposed that he could have drowned also," he explained, more bluntly than necessary. The girl gasped, a hand covering her mouth. The mother looked away, her hands clutching tissues in her lap. Inuyasha continued to stare at him.

"It was…that night…wasn't it?" he croaked.

"Would you think it was any other?" Neither needed clarification from the other. Inuyasha's eyes finally fell to the bed. "The body was found last week. With the amount decomposition from the water, it took a while to identify who—"

"Okay!" he exclaimed, his voice cracking. "I get it! That's enough." Sesshomaru's eyes narrowed. He resented being cut off.

"You asked to be informed. I am informing you," he hissed. Inuyasha looked back up at him, and Sesshomaru was shocked to find a light sheen over the bruised eyes, the scent of salt not even hitting him until that exact moment.

"Are you mad at me?" he whispered, a question that completely bowled Sesshomaru over.

"Come again?" Inuyasha swallowed audibly, letting out a shaky breath.

"Do you blame me?" he rephrased. "Do you blame me?"

Sesshomaru's eyes narrowed even further. 'More than you could ever know,' he thought immediately, the dark thought no doubt telegraphing loud and clear in his eyes, for the boy shrunk back.

"I blame me, too," he murmured, and Sesshomaru only just barely caught it. He couldn't believe his ears.

He took in the sight before him. There in a hard hospital bed sat his younger half-brother, his arms full of needles connected to tubes, connected to IVs, delivering fluids to him. His leg encased in plaster, inside the plaster, pins, screws and rods, holding the pieces of his kneecap and tibia together. His face, swollen and discolored, mottled with blue and purple, and green and yellow: bruises in various stages of healing. A trio of scars, extending from just under his eye to the bottom of his lower lip. His head, bare of hair, save for the few centimeters of recent growth, and wrapped with gauze, hiding what he knew was a deep gash at the base of his skull, evidence of a blow that had left him temporarily paralyzed.

And even in such a state, even with all of the pain he felt, even with the long road of difficult recovery that lay ahead of him, even with the years of isolation and abuse, physical, emotional, and mental that such a man had caused him…

He blamed himself for his death. He understood Sesshomaru's anger directed at his person, even as Sesshomaru himself fell into the realization that such a feeling was horribly misplaced.

'He's a better person than I am,' blinked the thought across his mind, hitting him with all the intensity of the quintessential epiphany. This boy, this child, this _half-breed_, was wiser than _him_, was _better_ than _him._ After that, the only thing he could think was to get away as fast as he could. To experience and subsequently analyze the most galling emotion he'd ever happened across in front of his younger brother and his new family was one thing he did _not_ need.

He turned away abruptly, picking up the briefcase he'd set on an empty chair, and turned to leave.

"Sesshomaru, wait!" came the muffled, hoarse voice that now, evoked so much guilt from him. But he didn't wait. He turned the handle and exited the room without so much as a backward glance.

'Hindsight is always twenty-twenty,' the old adage came unbidden to the forefront of his mind as he left the hospital that day. Images of his own faults and shortcomings flitted across his mind. He saw how cruel he'd truly been to his bedridden younger brother, callously brushing his injuries off as mere scratches and bruises, telling him to grow up; telling him to be a man.

'In truth,' he realized, 'you must be a man yourself in order to instruct someone else to do the same.'

* * *

Inuyasha had stopped again. This time, he sat on a bench, bending to massage the area round his pieced-together kneecap. Sesshomaru slowed the car to a stop right in front of his post and lowered the window.

Inuyasha looked up, curious at first, then annoyed as he recognized the vehicle. He turned his head away and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Inuyasha, get in the car," Sesshomaru told him.

"No."

"I'm being serious, Inuyasha. Get in the car now."

"_No_. Go away, leave me alone, and don't tell me what to do," he argued stubbornly. Sesshomaru sighed. It was never easy with Inuyasha.

"How will you get home if I do go away?"

"I'll _walk_," he drawled, as though Sesshomaru were an idiot.

"You've got a terrible limp, you're sitting there massaging your knee, because you're obviously in pain, and we're about thirty minutes away from the shrine in a car. You won't make it. And before you say it, the bus doesn't run on Sundays. You know that."

Inuyasha pouted, knowing that he was right, yet not wanting to give in just yet.

"It has not even been three hours, but I will take you right back to the shrine. Right now," Sesshomaru offered. Inuyasha eyed him suspiciously from the bench. "I promise, alright?"

Seeing that he had no plausible other choice, Inuyasha rose stiffly from the bench, limping the few steps to the car and getting in with a huff.

"This isn't the way to the shrine," Inuyasha said as they merged onto the expressway.

"I have a stop to make."

"You said you'd take me back to the shrine! You promised!"

"And I will. After I make this stop."

"You said you'd take me right away."

"Well, I changed my mind." He could feel Inuyasha glaring at the side of his face. He didn't indulge him.

"Leave it to you to lie. Of course you'd break a promise," he muttered, settling back down into his seat. "Dunno what I was expecting. Sesshomaru? Truthful? Yeah right. What a load of bullshit—"

"Enough!" Sesshomaru bellowed, his hand flying off of the steering wheel, cutting off Inuyasha's words. He instantly regretted the automatic gesture when, out of his peripheral vision, he saw the boy recoil, and heard his sharp intake of breath. The sour tang of fear briefly tainted his scent, and Sesshomaru immediately knew what had gone on in his mind. "That's enough," he muttered weakly, dropping his hand, knowing that this would not help him in his somewhat feeble efforts towards a relationship with the boy.

He could feel the boy's eyes on him for a few more long moments before he slowly faced forward, opting not to say anything at all. His silence however, spoke volumes.

"I'm…sorry," Sesshomaru finally muttered as he parallel parked in front of the building he'd been aiming for. "I was not actually going to…It was a reflex. I was not about to…" he trailed off uselessly. He cut the ignition. "Inuyasha, it was not—"

"How did you find out about this place?" Inuyasha interrupted darkly, completely ignoring his dredged up apology. Sesshomaru swallowed the slight annoyance he felt. It was not easy for him to apologize, and it certainly did not sit well with him that it went ignored. 'Swallow your pride,' he schooled himself.

"Does it matter?"

"Yeah it matters! It's an invasion of privacy!"

"I've never gone in," he said simply. He waited.

"So why are we here?" Inuyasha finally asked sulkily.

"I want you to take me in. Show me what you do." Inuyasha stared at him incredulously, eyes wide.

"No way."

"Why not?"

"Why _should_ I? You never cared about it before! You never wanted to—"

"Dammit, Inuyasha, I am _trying_ here!" Sesshomaru finally exclaimed, frustrated. "I am _trying_. But there is only so far that I can go before you have to meet me halfway."

He wasn't looking at him. But he was tensed, and agitated, and Sesshomaru knew he was listening, weighing his options, comparing the pros and cons of the situation. He abruptly shoved the door open, cold air rushing in.

"I know I'm gonna fucking regret this," he muttered under his breath. Sesshomaru didn't feel the need to argue. He followed silently behind the boy as he limped up the icy path to the doorstep of the ratty building. Sesshomaru waited as he punched in his code and was buzzed in, his nose wrinkling at the damp smell of the place as he entered.

"Inuyasha! You knuckle-headed brat! I'll have you know, I was about ready to close out your lease and throw your stuff out into the street!" A old, knobby demon ranted upon seeing Inuyasha. "It's been over a month and a half! Who do you think you are—"

"Totosai…please," Inuyasha said tiredly. "Not now."

"Not now? Not _now_? Yes, now! Where the hell have you been? Do you honestly think—hey….what the hell happened to your face, eh?" he queried, interrupting his own tirade. "And your hair! It's all gone! What in blue blazes—"

"Later," Inuyasha said briefly, sighing. "Okay? I'll explain everything later."

"Uh-huh," he wheezed, his bulbous eyes narrowing in suspicion. "You damn right you will." He nodded in Sesshomaru's direction. "Who's the suit?" he asked. Inuyasha looked up at him, as if wondering how he ought to be introduced.

"Sesshomaru," he said finally with a shrug. "I'm going up." And without another word, Inuyasha turned to the large staircase that filled the damp foyer, and began to ascend. Sesshomaru wordlessly followed. He didn't need to ask why he hadn't been introduced as "older brother".

The smell of rotting wood and mold somewhat lessened as they climbed the stairs, and when they reached the top floor, it was almost nonexistent. 'Which is not to say that the décor has improved,' Sesshomaru noted as he was led down a long dark corridor of warehouse-type doors. A squat, odd-looking human waddled from one of the rolling doors, carrying an armful of what appeared to be wooden tubes. His bulbous eyes followed the two brothers as they passed him, his fat body frozen. Sesshomaru raised an eyebrow at him, and he looked away.

Ahead, Inuyasha was squatting to a lock, and pushed the door up with a loud clatter. He stepped to the side to allow Sesshomaru entrance, and then stepped in himself, rolling the door shut.

"Here it is," he muttered. The room was musty, not having been aired out in over a month and a half. Dust covered everything in a thin layer. Sesshomaru crossed the space to the mound covered by a blue tarp.

"Is this it?" he asked. Inuyasha's eyebrow ticked marginally, a silent affirmative. Sesshomaru peeled his gloves from his fingers, tucking them into the pocket of his coat, and gingerly picked the tarp away, dropping it to the ground.

He picked up canvas after canvas, eyeing them briefly before carefully laying them back in their rack. All was silent in the studio, save for the rub of canvas on canvas and their breathing.

"How long have you been doing this?" Sesshomaru asked, turning to the boy. He was seated on the small pallet of sheets on the opposite side of the room, leaning against the wall. He'd taken his hat off, exposing the short wispy locks that fell into his eyes messily.

"Started taking real art classes in the 6th grade. Found this place when I was 13." Sesshomaru nodded his understanding, his eyes falling back to the painting in his hands. Three sets of angry eyes stared back at him from the faces of three young wolf demons.

"You have an incredible talent," he said quietly. He glanced at the boy to see his skeptical face, eyes narrowed, disbelief and anger obvious in them.

"I didn't let you come up here so you could mock me," he snapped.

"I am not mocking you."

"Shut up. Go fuck yourself, Sesshomaru," he muttered darkly. Sesshomaru bit his tongue against a retort and picked up another painting. He'd just freed it from the row when Inuyasha shouted at him

"No! Leave that one alone! You can't touch this one!" he yelled angrily. He was suddenly beside him, snatching the portrait from him and hugging it to his chest protectively. Sesshomaru stared at him in surprise as he retreated, taking the canvas and propping it up on an easel in the corner with great care. Sesshomaru watched as he did this, finally catching a glimpse of the highly-prized work. He saw the face that swam up form a murky background of purple and suddenly understood.

"Izayoi?" he asked needlessly. As though he needed affirmation. His own mother had spat that name with more venom than he'd ever heard a word uttered.

"Don't you dare say her name. You keep her name out of your mouth," Inuyasha hissed, glaring at him over his shoulder contemptuously. "You have no right to say her name."

"Excuse me," he coughed sincerely. "You're right. I shouldn't have taken so much liberty." Inuyasha whipped around so fast, the few inches of new grown atop his head swung. His eyes were wide with disbelief and mistrust, full of trepidation and anxiety.

"What…what are you playing at?" he asked, his voice shaking with doubt.

"I am not playing at anything, Inuyasha. I mean it. I apologize. You're right. I have no right to address her in such a casual manner. I should not—"

"So what? You expect me to believe that all of a sudden, you think my mother deserves respect? After what? Almost eight years of you talking shit about her? After almost eight years of you calling her a whore? After you've always thought of her as dirty? Bullshit, Sesshomaru!" he shouted.

"You can believe it if you choose. I am apologizing. For me to speak of her in such a manner…it was very dishonorable of me. And dishonorable to you as well. None too fitting of the person I ought to be." Inuyasha's expression of utter shock and bewilderment was priceless. Sesshomaru smirked inwardly. The little hanyou was most assuredly confused beyond all belief, he thought grimly.

Such a shame, Sesshomaru mused, that he'd confused his brother to the point of being shocked when he apologized for such heinous offenses. When he thought of all the jabs he'd taken at the woman, Inuyasha's mother, a _dead _woman, for kami's sake, he almost could not believe that that person was him. That he, a man of such stature, respected by his peers and employees, thought to be one of the utmost poise and dignity, had disrespected, repeatedly, his younger brother's dead mother.

Sesshomaru's eyes fell to a plastic tub beside the rack of portraits. There were scraps of canvas, splintered wood, chunks of paint. He crouched, picking up a fairly large strip from the jumble. His own face, along with that of his wife's were depicted there, and he frowned.

"What is all this?" he asked. Inuyasha took a while to answer, still, undoubtedly, speechless from Sesshomaru's unexpected apology, the second that day.

"It's…it _was_ you and Kagura. It was stupid. For your wedding," he muttered embarrassedly. Why had he kept that junk again?

Sesshomaru froze, clutching the scrap into his fist. His lips pressed together tightly.

"Was this…was this what you…" He didn't need to finish the question. Inuyasha nodded wordlessly, yes.

"I ripped it up," he offered needlessly. Sesshomaru's brow wrinkled, and he sighed.

"Why?"

"I dunno," Inuyasha muttered. Sesshomaru fixed him with a knowing look.

"Yes you do. Why did you destroy it, Inuyasha?" The teen eyed him distrustfully, as though he were picking him apart, bit by bit, trying to figure him out.

"I…I hated you…for hating me," he answered finally, red tingeing the bridge of his nose. "So I ripped it up."

"I don't…" Sesshomaru sighed heavily, resigned. He knew what he had to do. No amount of subtlety or beating around the bush would fix what he'd done. Nothing other than directness would fix the mess he'd made of things, the pain he'd caused for the past eight years. "…I don't…I don't hate you, Inuyasha."

"Yes, you do," Inuyasha insisted bitterly. He didn't even sound angry. Just…bitter. And hurt. His voice was filled with pain. 'Old pain,' Sesshomaru thought grimly. 'Old pain from me. It wasn't just Father that was abusing him.'

"No, I don't."

"You act like it. You've always acted like it."

"But I don't," Sesshomaru maintained. "I don't." Inuyasha pinned him from across the room with one of the most intense looks he'd ever received, his eyes at half mast, looking tired and wary.

"I don't believe you."

"I…I know you don't. And…I don't blame you for not believing me," Sesshomaru said. He rose to his feet, nodding resolutely. "Inuyasha…I'm going to…" He cleared his throat, and swallowed his pride, swallowed the instinct that welled in him to be callous and cold. The time had come for his humility. The time had come for him to be the man he'd instructed Inuyasha to be. He tried again.

"I'm going to try to…to make things…better," he got out finally. Inuyasha closed his eyes and gave a world-weary sigh, running a hand though his cropped, disheveled hair.

"Shit can't get better, Sesshomaru."

"Inuyasha, listen—"

"No, _you_ listen. Listen to _me_," he bit out desperately. "You…you were _horrible_ to me. You can't possibly begin to understand…how _awful_ you treated me. You made fun of me. You hated me. You never wanted to be _near_ me." He shoved his fists forcefully into his jean pockets, staring at the older demon with eyes almost begging him to understand. "You think I'm an idiot? You think I don't _know_ what you think of me? I _know_, Sesshomaru. I _know_. I'm a burden. I'm a disgrace to you, to the family. I ripped your family apart. I'm disgusting. I'm not your brother. I _know_, Sesshomaru."

He walked towards the small, smeared window and leaned his shoulder on the wall by it, staring out into the desolate lot below. "And I know you abandoned me. Because I know that you knew. I know that you've always known. There's no way you couldn't have know what was happening." Inuyasha looked at him, looked _through_ him, another one of those haunting, piercing looks that burned his very soul and made that gnawing guilt increase its appetite. "You _knew_, and you didn't do a damn thing."

Sesshomaru buckled first and ashamedly looked away. He'd resented the boy for so much then. For being born, firstly. For being the reason that other children at his prestigious high school had looked down upon him. 'Brother of a half-breed'. He'd refused to accept it. And what had he done? He'd turned his anger and resentment at that ridicule onto the young boy from the moment he'd stepped foot in the house. It had helped. Students from school would see him shun the boy, see him refuse to claim him as family. As long as he'd resisted it, his peers knew that he was as disapproving of the situation as they were. He'd made every attempt for them to know that it was his father that had made the mistake, not him. That it was the young hanyou that was the invalid and blight to society. Not him. Not perfect him.

Who did he think he was?

'Much more than I actually am,' Sesshomaru mused wistfully. There had been so much potential. Inuyasha had adored him in those days. Had followed him around like the moon follows the earth. And he'd spat in the child's face.

"I can't erase the past," he said finally. He couldn't. The damage he'd done to the child's psyche was irreparable, and they both knew it.

"No shit," Inuyasha spat, affirming his knowledge of this fact.

"But…I can try to…make the future better. I can only try."

"Do you know? Do you know what you did to me? Do you know how much…" Inuyasha looked down, shook his head, ran a hand agitatedly though his hair again and again. "Do you know how much your…rejection…hurt? Do you even know?"

"I know. Believe me…I know. I'd intended it that way," Sesshomaru admitted stiffly.

"I had…I had admired you. I looked up to you. I…I'd wanted to be just like you," Inuyasha admitted, his cheeks flushing. "There…wasn't anybody cooler than you. Not to me, anyway," he mumbled. Sesshomaru was embarrassed to know how that flattered him. He cleared his throat to cover himself.

"I…I am so sorry….that I betrayed that feeling," Sesshomaru mumbled, and Inuyasha nodded. He smiled weakly, "Actually…there's really no one cooler than you. Your paintings…they're incredible." He laughed weakly. He sighed heavily with relief when Inuyasha offered a tiny smile in response to his weak attempt at a so-called joke.

"Thanks," he said softly.

"It's true," Sesshomaru insisted. The two relaxed the tiniest bit in the tentative, ever-shaky peace they'd established. Inuyasha was the first to break the silence.

"…you mean that?"

"Come again?"

"About trying," he mumbled embarrassedly. "…you mean that?"

"I mean it more than I've ever meant anything else," Sesshomaru said in earnest. "I'll try, Inuyasha. If you choose to give me the chance to do so." Inuyasha eyed him calculatingly, and Sesshomaru got the distinct feeling that he was being sized up, measured, analyzed.

"…'kay."

Sesshomaru smiled a close-lipped smile, which Inuyasha returned. He stepped forward, offering his hand.

"Promise, it's a deal. Brother." Inuyasha stared at the hand as though it intended him harm, before looking back up at Sesshomaru.

"Deal. Brother." He shook his hand firmly.

Sesshomaru stared at the boy before him, knowing the amount of trust he was putting into him again, someone who'd failed him before. Someone he was trusting to not go back on his word. He stared at the faint scar that ran from the boy's eye to his lip, and made him a silent promise to be all the brother he deserved. After all…he was all the blood-family the boy had left.

As they stood there, shaking hands, Sesshomaru felt his heavy load of guilt somewhat lightened.

The future looked bright.

Author's Note:

WOOT!! Happy ending!

I'm sorry sorry SORRY it took so long. Don't kill me!!

So…I've got two other one-shot's I'm thinking on. So hopefully I wont be gone for two long ;)

Love you guys! See ya soon!

Wowzer313


	26. Epilogue

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, Rumiko Takahashi does

Disclaimer: I don't own Inuyasha, Rumiko Takahashi does.

Author's Notes:

Hehe….you thought I was done with this didn't you?

…so did I /

But then I wanted to throw a cute, happy scene in there. Honestly, you could take it or leave it. Plus, I missed Kagome too!! (she just didn't fit into that last chapter for me somehow)

Enjoy! (And this is it on TSE, seriously /)

**Epilogue**

"Okay, now brake…Brake. _Press_ the brakes. Brake _now_, Inuyasha. _**Inuyasha stop the car!**_" Sesshomaru yelled, grabbing the handle by his head and suddenly feeling quite religious; he chanted a quick prayer to the kamis under his breath just as the car jerked to a halt, just barely sandwiched between two other cars, his seatbelt snapping him back against the seat. His heart galloped at a rapid pace, and he was afraid he felt more than a few palpitations. He blew a lock of hair out of his face, frazzled and trying to maintain his cool. His eyes slid icily over to the giddy teen in the driver's seat.

"Wow, that was awesome," Inuyasha whispered loudly, a goofy grin plastered across his face. "This car's so _fast_!" His fingers drummed excitedly on the steering wheel, head nodding in time with whatever beat was playing in his mind. He finally broke out of his little daze and looked at his older brother, the smile slipping from his face at the half-crazed expression on Sesshomaru's.

"So…I take it I didn't do well?" he asked with a shrug. Sesshomaru's eyes bugged out of his head, one lower lid twitching.

"This. Is. A. _2007 Porsche Boxter!_" he bellowed, his chest heaving. "You drove it like some—some—_rally car!_" he spluttered, his face red. Inuyasha stared at him, eyes wide.

"So…that's a no, then…" he mused, answering his own question.

"Yes, Inuyasha! That is a no!"

"I don't think—"

"You have no place to speak in this matter," Sesshomaru growled darkly. "This car is practically in _mint_ condition, and you swerved in and out of traffic…"

"Sesshomaru," Inuyasha began.

"…never heard of a turn signal before…"

"You can't just keep a car like this cooped up in a garage," Inuyasha posed intellectually.

"…absolutely _positive_ I need new brakes now…"

"It's like…it's like a crime against mankind, or something, you know? To keep such a _nice_ car all cramped…"

"…wore the tread off of the damn tires…"

" 'Cause you see, a car like this needs to breath. It needs to stretch, you know? It's just so _nice_—"

"It _was_ nice. Before _you_ got under the wheel!"

"Oh, come on!" Inuyasha drawled, giving him a sidelong look. "It wasn't _that_ bad," he grinned, nudging the older demon with his elbow chummily. Sesshomaru's eyelid was twitching in time with Inuyasha's roguish eyebrow waggles.

"Out," he commanded.

"But—"

"No buts! Out! Get out! Get out of my car!" he demanded, unbuckling the boy's seatbelt and practically pushing him out of the seat. Sesshomaru exited the car as well.

"I really don't see what the big deal is," Inuyasha said sulkily. Sesshomaru cocked and eyebrow at him, and Inuyasha laughed. "Okay, okay, I'm kidding. I'm sorry. Maybe I was a little rough," he admitted.

"A _little_?" Sesshomaru muttered.

"Okay, more than necessary. I promise I'll be careful next time," he said sincerely. He crossed his heart. "Promise," he repeated as he fetched his bookbag from the trunk.

"Yeah well next time you drive, we're taking the shit-car."

"Aw!" Inuyasha mock-whined.

"Hey! You just be glad you get to drive at all."

"I know. I'm just fucking with you, Sesshomaru," Inuyasha added jocularly.

"Watch your mouth. And either way, you do drive like a maniac."

"I mostly do it just to keep it on your toes. I'm actually quite a smooth driver," Inuyasha boasted, ignoring his instruction. Sesshomaru rolled his eyes as he and his brother traded places on the sides of the car.

"What time am I picking you up tonight? Seven, right?"

"Well, I promised Mrs. Higurashi that I'd help her clean out the attic. Kagome's coming back to the shrine after her evening class. And then, you know, she starts to miss me, so…you know how that can go…" he trailed off suggestively, shrugging.

"Very quick, I'm assuming?" Sesshomaru jabbed, raising an eyebrow. Inuyasha choked.

"You don't even know the half of it," he shot back, recovering.

"That…is disgusting," he said shortly, leaning an arm on the car door.

"That is a beautiful thing. Don't get jealous just because you're some boring old married guy," Inuyasha joked, taking a jab at him.

"Whatever. I'm not playing this game with you—"

"Only because you can't!" Inuyasha interjected, turning to leave, shrugging into his bag.

"Just call!" Sesshomaru called with a chuckle. Inuyasha waved and jogged off down the cobblestoned path leading to Tokyo University's east campus girls' dormitory.

He recognized many of the students milling around the campus grounds, as many of them had attended the various high schools he'd been apart of. Some of them recognized him from Daisuke, and he averted his face from them.

His month-long stint in the hospital had not been kind to his grades. He hadn't been able to muster up the energy to complete the make-up work Kagome brought him every other day. That, coupled with the massive amount of absences had him failing his senior year of high school, and, humiliatingly, having to return that fall.

It had been one more disappointment; that he could not start college in the fall with Kagome, move on from high school and all the pain it had caused. But he couldn't get too down about things. Life was so completely different for him now. Eight months since the worst night of his life had brought so many changes, personally, physically. Even relationship-wise. Holistically, he was moving upward, and enjoying the ride.

High school was still pretty much hell on earth. He had no friends, his teachers weren't encouraging or helpful. In short, he was still a half-breed in a world where such beings weren't wanted.

But now, he had a home he could go to at the end of each day. A real _home_. He woke up to a full breakfast in the morning, conversation at the table. He woke up to cheery greetings from Mrs. Higurashi, newspaper discussions with Grandpa, back tackles from Souta. He came home to comforting words from Mrs. Higurashi and video games with Souta, and ended the night with a full belly, a safe mind, and a contented heart. He couldn't ask for anything more. Sure, Kagome was away at college. But that was only a twenty minute drive away from the shrine.

Sesshomaru had made good on his promise. Inuyasha was amazed at the leaps and bounds they'd made as far as their relationship. He'd even, lately, spent nights at the man's home. Inuyasha had to admit, he thoroughly enjoyed those nights, where just he and his older brother watched movies and just talked. Talked about things that had gone wrong, how they could make them right. Other times, when neither was in the mood for heavy subjects, talked about sports, television, Inuyasha's art. Even, and this surprised Inuyasha every time he got away with bringing up the subject even in teasing, women. Sesshomaru, surprisingly, had much to say on the subject.

It had surprised him how Sesshomaru knew how to make him somewhat comfortable, that he'd picked up on things that made him cringe, whether the hints were intuitive on his part, or common sense, Inuyasha couldn't figure.

The first night he'd stayed over, after months of avoiding what he just _knew_ would be an awkward situation, Sesshomaru had dipped into the mini fridge of the basement's bar, pulling out a beer for himself.

"…You drink?" Inuyasha had asked from his cross-legged position on the couch. He must have had a nervous edge in his voice, or a taint of it in his scent, for Sesshomaru paused, the cap halfway twisted off.

"On occasion. Why?" he asked quietly, curiously. Inuyasha shrugged uneasily.

"No reason. Just wondering, I guess," he muttered. Sesshomaru eyed him skeptically for a few more moments. He screwed the cap back tight.

"Maybe not tonight," he said finally, stowing the beer away. "Soda?" he offered.

Inuyasha had never said anything to him about how relieved he was that he chose not to drink around him. He only smiled gratefully. He was fairly certain that Sesshomaru was not in the habit of being inebriated; even still, the thought of alcohol mixing with imposing dog demons made him uneasy.

After that last court-appointed meeting, Sesshomaru had made efforts to see him outside of Sunday afternoons. He joined Inuyasha and the Higurashis for dinner, bringing dessert with him. He picked Inuyasha up from school some days and took him for late afternoon lunches. He'd even taken him to a baseball game. That had been a trial run. A feeling out, of sorts. After that, they'd both found out that baseball was not quite their thing. Basketball, however, delighted them both to no end, and on their occasional 'sleepovers', watched classic games.

Sesshomaru had been there for his birthday, though how he remembered when it was, Inuyasha hadn't a clue. He'd embarrassedly, stiffly, presented him with a new laptop, figuring that it would help him with his trouble in his composition classes and then later, in college, or so he said. In his gratitude, Inuyasha remade the portrait of Sesshomaru and Kagura that he'd destroyed, and it now hung proudly in the couple's living room.

It had leaked out, of course, that the propagator of that sudden, spur of the moment trip to Inuyasha's art studio building had indeed been Kagome. She was forever sticking her nose where it didn't belong, and this was no different. In her defense, she claimed that it was sad to watch the two of them in the living room, sitting silently for three hours every week. When Inuyasha pointed out that she probably shouldn't have been watching in the first place, she waved him off and said that wasn't important. She said that what _was_ important was saving what was left of a family.

That she did.

'Crazy girl,' he thought with a grin, shaking his head. 'Always in someone else's business.'

"I didn't tell him _exactly _what to do," she'd defended herself. "I just told him that he should show some interest in you. That the way to a person's heart after so long is humility and interest." He gave her a skeptical look. "Hey, it worked, didn't it?"

So it had.

He spotted the girl in question a good forty yards ahead of him, heading towards the dorm entrance with books in her arms and her bag slung over one shoulder. He smirked. He hadn't told her what time he'd be arriving, so she wouldn't be expecting him. He snuck up behind her stealthily, snaking an arm around her middle, somewhat impeded by the absolutely humongous, lumpy gray sweatshirt she was wearing, and latched onto her neck with his lips. She stiffened and gasped before wriggling around in his grip and grinning.

"Inuyasha!" she exclaimed, letting go her two books to wrap her arms around his neck. "I've missed you! You didn't tell me you were coming!" He smiled and hugged her back, inhaling deeply.

"Wanted to surprise you," he murmured contentedly. "I figured I'd just catch a ride back to the shrine with you."

"Who dropped you off?" she asked, letting go. He stooped to gather her books and held the door open for her.

"Sesshomaru," he answered as she passed under his arm. "But I drove," he winked.

"Oh really?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "How did that go?" They crossed the wide foyer, milling with girls and a few male students, to the corridor containing the elevator. Kagome punched the up button and they waited.

"He said we're taking the shit-car next time I drive," he shrugged as they boarded the elevator. He pressed three automatically as the doors closed.

"So you two are getting along then?"

"Yeah. Yeah we are. We're good. Real good," he answered reflectively. She smiled softly at him.

"I'm glad."

"Me too," he admitted. "But. Enough about me and Sesshomaru," he waved off. She gave him a sultry, knowing look. "I've missed you way too much to talk about Sesshomaru." It had only been a week since he'd come to visit her. She'd been at the shrine two days ago.

"So? What are you gonna do about it?" she asked off-handedly. "Are you gonna—" He'd crossed the elevator, gathered her close and covered her mouth with his before she could finish her sentence. His free hand bunched in the folds of her sweatshirt, feeling the curve of her waist through the bulky material. He had her pressed flush against the wall of the elevator, his enthusiasm so great that she was just barely still on her toes. She braced herself from slipping by grasping onto the metal rod attached to the wall.

"I won't let you fall," Inuyasha whispered, rushed, against her lips, wasting no time in getting back to lavishing her mouth with attention.

The elevator dinged, having reached the third floor. The doors whirred open, unnoticed by the enamored pair.

"Kagome?"

Kagome's eyes flew open and she gasped, quickly pushing Inuyasha away.

"Hey!" he groused.

"Mao!" she blurted. Her roommate stood at the entrance to the elevator, books in hand, shaking her head and laughing. "I…um—"

"Wow, Kagome, um…room's free," she quipped, stepping inside just as Kagome and Inuyasha stepped out. "Don't worry—I'll be gone 'til evening, so…have fun you two!" Mao winked, signaling the doors to close as she waggled her fingers at them. Kagome blushed, waving back weakly. "Bye, Inuyasha," she sang playfully.

"Bye, Mao," he replied as the doors shut. Kagome stood mortified staring at the elevator doors. "At least we don't have to worry about distracting her," Inuyasha shrugged with a smile. Kagome whacked him on the chest lightly, grinning.

"Shut up. Come on, let's go," she beckoned, and he followed willingly as she tugged on his sweatshirt sleeve.

She fumbled for her key, unlocking the door and letting him go in first as she paused to slip the electric pink 'Do Not Disturb' sign on the door knob outside. Inuyasha smirked at her when she faced him.

"You plan on us doing something worth disturbing?" he asked, reaching for her. She smiled secretively.

"If you're good," she said lowly, dangling the promise of much attention before him. "Now sit down, I've got to send and email."

"An _email_?" he frowned.

"It'll only take a second. I promised my lab partner I'd send her copies of our photos and our analyses right away," she explained. Inuyasha groaned, dropping his pack. "I promise, you'll have all my attention as soon as I'm done," she winked, placating him.

Inuyasha plopped onto her bed, leaning an arm lazily over the low headboard, letting his gaze drift over the room. There was distinct line right down the middle of the room, separating the almost obsessive neatness and perfect cohesiveness of Mao's side from the so-called organized chaos and charming miss-match of Kagome's. Mao's shoes stood paired in perfect rows at the foot of her bed. Two pairs of rumbled jeans, an old t-shirt, and an overturned book lay at the foot of Kagome's. Mao's desk was a snapshot out of an office supplies catalogue. Kagome's desk was a messy array of papers, photographs, both black and white and color, film rolls, and cameras in various stages of assembly. Mao's walls featured the poster children of the academia world, premier scientists and inventors. Kagome's walls were decorated with her photographs, arranged in a wide checkerboard pattern across the expanse of the surface.

Inuyasha turned on the bed, studying the pictures he already knew so well. Many of them she'd taken out of her scrapbooks. He smiled at the family pictures, many of them from earlier years, with a smaller Souta grinning toothlessly for the camera. His eyes flicked over the many faces, lips tugging upwards at the especially tender ones of Kagome and himself.

His eyes slid back over to the girl on his mind. She was hunched over her laptop, pounding the keys furiously as her eyes flicked back and forth between the screen and an open notebook on her cluttered desk. Wisps of hair fell around her face from the messy bun her hair was pulled into, the arrangement itself beginning to sag low on her head. Every now and then the rectangular glasses she'd adopted before college for reading would slide down her sloped nose, and she'd daintily push them back up to their proper position, her fingers, covered to the second knuckle by the voluminous sweatshirt she sported, returning to whir over the keys. He couldn't help but smile. How had he gotten so lucky? She was so sexy, even when she wasn't trying.

"What?" she asked, breaking him out of his trance.

"What?" he asked back, not following.

"What are you staring at?" she asked, a curious half-smile played on her enticing lips.

"You," he answered simply with a shrug. She blushed cutely, pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose, looking away.

"Ugh. Don't. I look a mess," she laughed embarrassedly, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear.

"Who says? You look beautiful," he told her sincerely. "I like it when you look like this."

"You're just trying to butter me up," she said, giving him an unconvinced look.

"So what if I am? It's true anyway," he said as she turned back to the screen, shaking her head and smiling.

Inuyasha eyed her for a few more moments before slipping off the bed soundlessly, and coming to stand behind the girl. Bending over the back of her chair, he slowly brushed the tip of his nose against the nape of her neck, back and forth.

"Inuyasha," Kagome warned, shrugging her shoulders against the tickle. He grinned behind her, ignored her warning, and continued his motions, moving closer to gently kiss the soft skin of her neck. He dragged his tongue against the flesh in short strokes, alternating between slow kisses and quick laps. She shivered, and he smiled, excited, moving up to kiss the crest of her ear. "Inu…yasha…" she mumbled again, less of a protest. "You're not playing fair," she complained weakly.

"When did I ever promise to?"

He brought his hands up to her shoulders, kneading them gently, never ceasing his mouth's attentions on her neck and ear. His lips enveloped her earlobe, just barely running the tip of his tongue over it and sucking gently. Sliding down her arms, he laced his fingers through hers, pulling them away from the keyboard. She didn't even bother protesting physically.

"Inuyasha…I'm _really_ supposed to be sending my partner those analyses—"

"I am sure," he said, pausing from his current task of forming a hickey on her neck, "that she will understand, and," He pulled her arms behind her back, holding them there with one hand. "I'm sure that the notes or whatever," He tugged her to stand, keeping her hands behind her back, and pulled her against him, hands pinned between her back and his front. "will still be there later." One arm slid around her waist while the hand of the other pulled out the pencil that had held her bun together. Her ebony tresses tumbled over her neck, and he didn't hesitate to bury his nose in them, inhaling the scent.

"Won't _you_ still be here later?" she retorted languorously. He didn't bother to respond. He took her glasses off of her face, setting them on the desk, reaching around to tug her chin toward him. He kissed her slowly from behind, one hand cupping her face, the other stroking her stomach through her sweatshirt. She twisted around in his embrace, finally deciding to protest no further, and the hand on her stomach cupped her face as well. She rested her hands lightly on his wrists as they tasted each other slowly. She backed up toward the bed, not hesitating to pull him down with her when she stretched out on the mattress. He lay out along her side, half on top of her with one leg between her own, propping himself up with an elbow as they continued their kisses.

Kagome frowned as the kisses went on, got more intense. She pulled back slightly, giving him a questioning look.

"Inuyasha…" she started.

"What? What's wrong?" he asked, confused and more than a bit groggy. She pressed a hand over his where it lay against her cheek.

"You're shaking," she whispered, giving him a worried look. "I thought all the tremors would have gone away by now." He looked at his hand, his attention being brought to the small shivers that ran through his fingers, and shrugged.

"I had a checkup last week. The doctor said they might go away completely, they might not. I don't even notice it anymore, though."

"You don't hurt at all, do you?"

"No, not at all," he said with a reassuring smile. Kagome was not convinced.

"Maybe…maybe we should take it easy," she suggested warily, pulling back even further, giving him a cautious look.

"Kagome!" he exclaimed with dismay.

"What? I'm just saying maybe we shouldn't lie down. Just take it slow—"

"Kagome, I'm fine."

"But you—"

"I'm fine! Kagome, please. Don't I look fine?" he asked. She studied his face, brushing his unkempt hair out of his face and running her fingers through the short length of his mop. She gave a small smile.

"You look great."

"Then quit worrying so much—"

"Even still…" she protested a bit more, trailing off. Inuyasha groaned softly, rolling his eyes and sitting up beside her prostrate form. He looked back at her, her head cushioned on the pillow, biting on her thumb nail nervously. "I'm sorry," she murmured apologetically. "I just don't wanna make anything worse…"

"It's fine," he said with a sigh. He shuffled to turn around to face her, pulling her legs into his lap. "Gimme these," he mumbled. He pulled her laces loose and pulled her shoes off of her feet, dropping them beside the bed. She watched him from her pillow.

"You're not upset, are you?" she asked.

"Nah. It's in your nature to be a big ol' worry-wart," he teased as he tugged her socks off, discarding them with the shoes. Her arms crossed as he rolled up the loose cuffs of her jeans.

"I'd think, given the situation that you were in, it's only _natural_ to worry. And I don't think my amount of worrying was excessive—"

"Kagome, Kagome," he chuckled, cutting her off and grabbing her hand. "I'm only joking with you, okay?" He kissed her finger tips placatingly, and set her hand back on her stomach, patting it. Jeans out of the way and rolled up to her lower thighs, he ran the tips of his claws lightly over her legs. "Want a rub-down?" he asked innocently.

"Huh?" she grunted. He smiled, pulling one foot up to rest on his shoulder as he rolled the other between his palms. Kagome squirmed her foot away, giggling a bit. "No, Inuyasha—"

"What? Why?" he protested, grabbing after the wayward appendage. "I thought girls loved that kind of stuff," he said, giving her a questioning look.

"Oh, it's just weird," she laughed, tucking her free foot under a lump in the blanket. He held her other foot hostage on his shoulder and refused to let it go. "Inuyasha—"

"Ah, come on. It'll feel good. Let me do it," he insisted. He dug her foot out of the blankets with one hand, keeping the other in its place, sandwiched between his shoulder and head, grinning all the while. "I want to," he said seriously. Relenting, as she would be unable to stop him once he had his mind set to something, she allowed him to hold her foot, the pads of his thumbs kneading her arch. "Since you won't let me lay down with you…" he muttered with a pouting smile. She smiled gently back, relaxing into his touch.

His eyes moved to focus on his task, her heel propped on his thigh as he worked out the muscles in her foot. He rolled her ankle, popping out the tension in it. His hands slid forward, molding the muscles in her calf firmly as her toes wiggled with the slight tickle.

"Feel good?" he asked. She nodded with a smile. "See? Told you." He pinned her with a look and lifted the appendage, kissing her ankle gently.

"Inuyasha," she murmured. With a small smile, he kissed her ankle again, leaning forward to kiss her calf before returning to her massage. Kagome watched him as he worked, his fingers tracing the bones of her foot with slow movements. She smiled to herself as she studied him. She could never get enough of looking at him. The irresistible ears that flicked every so often. The way his hair fell over his forehead in the most adorable way. The charming quirk of his tempting lips, the playful spark in his eye. 'That face,' she thought breathlessly. The face she dreamed about and yearned to see more of when the days of college made her weary. How could anyone have ever wanted to hurt or sadden that face?

She suddenly sat up and scooted forward, placing herself square in his lap with her legs wrapped loosely around his hips. He looked at her in surprise as she looped her arms around his neck, bringing him close for a searing kiss.

"Kagome," he started in surprise when they came up for a breath. "What happened to taking it easy?" he asked playfully, his hands settling on her hips. She smiled slyly at him, slowly unzipping his sweatshirt and pushing it off of his shoulders.

"You said you'd be alright, didn't you?"

* * *

Kagome surveyed the room with a critical eye. Having seen Inuyasha off to the car with her mother, she needed to get cleaned up and prepared for her evening class. She sighed and began to make her bed, untwisting the sheets and tucking them back around the mattress. What had began as just fully-clothed, innocent kisses when they entered the room had turned into both of them being underwear clad and massive fooling around. Her concern for his shakes was thrown out of the window along with her concern for the state of her side of the room….

She winced as she caught a glimpse of her hair in the mirror on the back of the door. 'Did I _seriously_ walk through public places like that?' she thought with a groan. Well. At least the sweatshirt she'd carelessly thrown on covered most of the hickeys that decorated her chest and neck.

She quickly brushed her hair into a ponytail and pulled her bookbag off of the floor, setting about to gather her things for class. Reaching for her camera and class journal, a brown paper wrapped item caught her eye, as it certainly didn't belong. She picked it up, noting the characters of her name hastily scribbled on the front. Slipping a nail under the taped surface, she tore it open, wondering when in the world he'd had time to slip anything out of his bookbag during their interlude.

A soft smile, full of pride, full of relief, full of peace quirked her lips as she looked down at what the paper covered. The short white hair that never seemed to settle, the mouth that was now quick to flash a lopsided smile exposed a pearly fang. The golden eyes that reflected an unbeatable spirit sparkled, even in paint. The faint line of a scar that healed slower than any wound she'd ever known on him arched down his cheek.

There was a tiny note tucked between the small canvas and the paper. She pulled it out and unfolded it, still smiling at his latest work.

_Dear Kagome— I'm pretty sure if you think back hard enough, you'll remember, right before Goro Oichi's art competition, a suggestion you gave me. You told me that I should do a self-portrait. Well, at that time, I really didn't want to. First, because you told me to do it—haha. Second, because I didn't want to submit something like that for lots of people to see. And third, because deep down, I didn't think I could do it. I read somewhere—please don't ask me where—that a self-portrait is a deep exploration of yourself. And back then, I wasn't really someone that I wanted to explore that deeply. You know that better than anyone._

_This one took a really long time. It took a long time to start, because I wasn't sure I could even paint anymore, and I was afraid. If that was taken away from me, what did I have left? But I finished it, and I know now—even if I couldn't paint anymore (thank the kamis that I can) I'd still have everything that made that portrait possible. I'd have your family, I'd have you. But more, I'd have this new me that I found. And I kind of like him._

_So I figure that it's only fitting that I give this one to you. First, because it was your suggestion in the first place. Second because it's the first portrait I've done since before I got sick. And third because it feels like this change I've made is one that you helped to happen. Because without you, I don't think I ever would have realized how much I really like myself and who I've become._

_So what do you think? Do I still have it?_

_Inuyasha_

* * *

Author's Note:

And that's all she wrote! I really hope you all have enjoyed reading _The Sweetest Escape_ as much as I've enjoyed writing it.

Wowzer313


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